Glued
by Vendelin
Summary: When an experiment in the potions dungeons goes awry, Draco Malfoy finds Harry Potter a little too close for comfort. The title might give you a lead. COMPLETE
1. It's not supposed to do this

_Disclaimer:_ JK owns everything, almost.

_AN:_ This is my first story ever in english. It's rated M for later chapters. If you don't like HP/DM or M/M-slash - don't read. No one's forcing you.

A huge thank you to Herr Sten, who have given me tons of ideas, and to my BETA Jerry (don't know her user name here on FF, though), both terrific writers! Check out Herr Sten's "My sweet Prince", right away.

_Please R&R!_

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**CHAPTER 1 – IT'S NOT SUPPOSED TO DO THIS**

_I can't believe this is happening to me. It's not fair, _Draco thought angrily to himself and dawdled on his way over to the table on the other side of the dungeon. The musty air in the clammy so-called classroom was starting to fill with murmurs between the paired up students. Some of them getting along just fine, others not very happy, but surely they all would endure two hours of teamwork with the other person.

But enduring two hours of Harry "_oh I have a higher purpose with my life" _Potter and his total lack of talent in the subject made him feel like vomiting. They weren't precisely the best of friends to start with, and to actually have to work as a pair with a guy who was even more full of himself than he himself was. _And_ had a friend that was a disgrace to the wizarding world, dating a muggleborn though he had blood as pure as Draco's… He just couldn't understand how this could actually work without ending with a duel, a sudden death or, perhaps, a fistfight. Draco hoped it wouldn't be the latter, since he wasn't Goyle who could probably mangle a dragon if he got the chance.

Potter sighed and scanned the room through his glasses, obviously irritated already and probably somewhat impatient. His trademark wasn't exactly known to be: think before you act, rather vice versa. Potter seemed to spend a lot of his time being impatient or restless. Or hating on Draco. Well, _that_ was at least mutual.

Yeah, this day couldn't get a better start.

"Why were you taking so long? We're way behind now!" Potter snapped as soon as Draco was within earshot.

"Well why didn't you start ahead then, if you need so much extra time? Being a Longbottom, are we?" Draco drawled and put his bag down beside the uncomfortable chair.

Potter was already pissed, and if he knew Golden Boy well enough - and he probably did when it came to the subject, "_How to best irritate"_ - a fight with either fists or wands wasn't very far away. Potter got furious for nothing, and even though Draco himself was good at handling people, Potter always got to him, irritated him and made him want to throw any vase or plate within reach into the nearest wall.

Potter had always had that ability, and he'd never understood why.

"Just get started, will you?" Potter clenched his jaw, obviously determined not to snap and get through class without fights and/or possible deaths.

Draco put his books and ingredients on the table, hoping they would get everything right and wouldn't have to spend several hours writing an essay about their lacking skills in potions. Even though Slughorn had Potter as one of his favorite students, if not _the_ favorite student, Draco wasn't one of them and he didn't doubt that any mistake would be blamed on him.

"Where do I start?" He tried to sound bored and ignorant, hoping to piss Potter off enough to make his face all red with anger, but not too angry, because Draco really liked his nose intact and its current shape.

"The third paragraph, second row. I've already chopped the black beetles." Potter didn't even look up, too busy with whatever he was doing now.

Draco glanced at the page Potter had in front of him and opened his book, searching for paragraph three. At first he'd thought Potter had done a ton of work already, but soon realized that the first one-and-a-half paragraph was only background information and instructions. He didn't bother reading them. If he did something wrong, Potter would correct him, considering how many years he had spent with that know-it-all Granger.

He picked up the box of glowing caterpillars and started cutting them in half, slicing and throwing them into the boiling potion. A disgusting smell rose from the purple liquid along with a nasty sound as if he threw water into a fire. Slighty worried, he scanned the page for "expected effects" and read the few lines carefully. Nothing about the nauseating smell, or the sound. He glanced at Potter. No reaction. Probably nothing to worry about then.

Draco mentally shrugged and started to peel the black onion, listed second after the glowing caterpillars. He was bored. Potions had never been one of his favorite subjects and since Snape preferred Defense Against the Dark Arts, it had been even more tiring.

Slughorn was such a high-hat and always ended up all nostalgic, bragging about all his famous friends that sent him gifts weekly. The man was hard to stand even with his mouth shut. And that was not very often.

He let his mind wander, thought about last year's chaos and Voldemort's defeat. Potter was more of a loner now, and at the same time a hero in the wizarding world. It was like he wasn't comfortable with the attention. He faked it good. Sometimes Draco almost believed him when he almost fled from first years wanting to take a picture with him, or Whatshisname Creevey, but they all knew it was false modesty. Potter had been a show-off since first grade when he'd saved Longbottom's Remembrall, making Draco look like a fool and making his way into Gryffindors quidditch team as the youngest seeker in a century at the same time. As if denying Draco's friendship hadn't been enough on the train during their first trip to Hogwarts. That had been the trigger to set off the never-ending fight between them.

Yeah, Potter was full of himself. No doubt.

He glanced over to Potter's book and raised one eyebrow when he realized that Potter had scribbled all over the pages in nearly not readable writing. Didn't Granger kill for such crimes? Maybe that's why they spoke less to each other nowadays.

They worked in silence, side by side, ignoring each other. Pretending the person next to them didn't exist and at the same time feeling the urge to say something rude rise between them. Something, or someone was going to snap any second.

He could hear Potter's breathing, could see his hands in the corner of his eye, working hard to chop the roots as fast as he could, his fingers dangerously close to getting their fair share of chopping. It was uncomfortable and because of that he didn't even care about getting all the juice out of the Mandrake buds. Potter was making him nervous, and he didn't like people making him nervous. Especially not Potter.

Time passed slowly. It felt like three hours when the clock told him he had endured thirty minutes. Whispers were flying around the room, talking about them. Eyes were watching them, some of them worried, some amused. They all knew there was going to be a drama when both Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were involved.

He caught Potter staring intently at him, angered. Oh _hello_ drama!

"What?" he said slyly, raising an eyebrow and avoided Potter's gaze. Eye contact wasn't his thing. It always made him feel awkward.

"Why aren't you doing anything?" Potter said accusingly and narrowed his eyes.

"I _am_." Draco nodded towards the knife in his hand, which he used to squeeze the juice out of the buds.

"Doing what? Taking a break? You've been sitting there with that stupid look on your face and the knife in your hand for the last ten minutes or so. I wouldn't call that _doing something_," Potter snapped. Flitwick would have used the word: _enraged_, to describe Potter's state of mind.

"Really? Because that's the _only_ thing I've seen you _do_ lately, since Weasels baby sister dumped you last year." He watched Potter's face and the glint in his eyes when he suddenly understood the insinuated message about his sex-life – or lack if it – in Draco's reply. An indescribable feeling of satisfaction rushed through his body when Potter's face slowly turned red.

"Wow, Potter, and I thought slow-mindedness wasn't a communicable disease. Spent too much time with Longbottom?" He smirked and saw how Potter tried to control his temper, clenching his fists in his lap and chewing the inside of his right cheek.

"Don't you ever talk about Neville…_or_ Ginny like that, ever again. You don't want to know what I'll do to you if you do." Potter glared at him with eyes sparkling behind his glasses.

"There's an awful lot of _doing_ here, don't you think?" Draco leaned forward and spoke in a theatrical whisper. "It's kind of inappropriate, Potter."

Potter threw everything on his cutting board in the cauldron and obviously didn't bother if it was chopped or not. Frankly, Draco didn't care either. The potion started boiling heavily in the same second as the last root touched its surface. Draco forgot all about harassing Potter, and Potter in turn clearly didn't care about what had been said between them just a second ago. They were both staring at the sizzling liquid that smelled worse than ever, almost causing Draco to suddenly vomit were he sat.

"What did you do?!" he squeaked and stared at Potter who seemed to be just as panicked as he was.

"I didn't do _anything_! What did _you_ do?"

If it had been a minute ago, Draco would have let out a nasty comment about Potters fixation with _doing_ people…or things.

"I just asked _you_! If I'd done something I wouldn't have asked you!" He didn't even care that his voice was all high-pitched and so not masculine at all, because the liquid was splattering outside of the cauldron now, threatening to hit them any second.

"It's not supposed to do this!" Potter gestured wildly towards the cauldron and the raging potion that tried to break free from its iron prison.

"No, _really_ Potter?" Draco couldn't help but to get all sarcastic over such a stupid stating of the obvious-comment. "_It's not supposed to do this, _are you _sure?_ I definitely thought it was supposed to go completely haywire and smell like a dead fish!"

Just as they were about to draw their wands, or perhaps fling their fists at each other, Draco didn't really know, Longbottom walked passed them, possibly with his mind in another world. He discovered the raging potion too late, and jumped screeching as far away from it as he could.

Draco saw it happen as in slow-motion. Longbottom's feet tripping on Potters _damn_ bag and falling backwards, kicking in panic. One of his thick, clumsy feet hit the cauldron, and caused it to wobble on its stand. Longbottom reacted instinctively and tried to get further away from the boiling potion, kicking the cauldron again in his hysteria.

Potter must have seen it before Draco did, or maybe he had better reflexes. Draco saw the cauldron tip over, causing the liquid to practically burst out of it in a wave of hot, sizzling black concoction. And it was going to drench him completely; causing Merlin-knew-whatto him, since it wasn't the potion they were supposed to create. The same second as he realized that he was screwed, a strong hand grabbed his left wrist and pulled his arm hard, causing him to fall over on his back behind his chair, only being able to watch the potion missing Potters body by a mere inch and drenching their linked wrist and hand in burning hot liquid, causing both Potter and him to scream in agony.


	2. Stuck

**A/N: Hiya guys! Your response to the last chapter was sort of overwhelming to me. I didn't expect to have any readers at all, haha. There were more reviews than I could've ever hoped for, plus, there were a few of you guys who added this story to your favorites and story alert. It's kind of awesome, actually! I never expected any of this. At all. It's only the first chapter, and I already have over 350 views. '**

**About the reviews:** I will ALWAYS try to answer all of them with a personal message, since I believe that if someone takes the time to read and review my story and let me know what they think about what I have written, it's only fair if I answer them personally.

There was one reviewer who didn't have a user on , so I will just take the opportunity to thank you here. So thank you very much, and you should know that I greatly appreciate your review!

**Other than that, here comes a few facts** (and a scarily long rant) that you need to know about the story and its complex relationship to the books , which I failed to write before the first chapter:

**1. **Dumbledore is not dead, though the whole situation with the vanishing cabinets and Death Eaters at Hogwarts all happened. Dumbledore just didn't die. Why? Because I doubt that this story would ever work without him.

**2. **Voldemort is dead, but since it's their seventh year it obviously didn't happen like it happened in the seventh book , right? It happened the same way, sort of, that Voldemort died at his own hand, and wand, overestimating himself as usual. Though there was NOT a great battle at Hogwarts. That just wouldn't work, since the whole school would be in ruins by now, sort of. The horcruxes exists in this story too, and Harry found them all with Dumbledore's help last year. Voldemort died during summer, when Harry left Privet Drive number 4 at his seventeenth birthday. Why? Because this story is all about Harry and Draco's relationship, and will not tell very much about Voldemort or the horcruxes or any of that. The threat of Voldemort just wouldn't fit in, and I couldn't "delete" the seventh book and all that happened in it. Therefore: Voldemort is dead.

**3. **There are a few characters that died in the later books, but are not dead in this story. Who they are, you'll find out as the story continues.

**4. **And Draco is actually studying Muggle studies in my story, even though I know he's actually not, but I don't care. HA HA!

These are the most important things you should know. NOTE this, though: this story will (again) NOT be about the war, the whole Voldemort-thing, or an adventure more than being stuck with your worst enemy against your own will (I doubt that there's anyone who would put themselves in that situation willingly though, hehe), and that's some sort of adventure on its own.

**And of course, a disclaimer:** I do not own the world, the characters or anything that belongs to JK (well, that's sort of obvious). I think it's kind of unnecessary to tell you guys, since you're obviously here for a reason (HP-fanfiction, duh), and surely know a whole lot about the world, the characters, .etc. already.

**AND AGAIN: **Thank you for the great response! Please leave a review when you've finished reading this chapter. It would make me and this story the chance to get better and try to please you all as good as I possibly can. And now, this rant is over, and the chapter may begin.

**And an extra HUGE thank you to my awesome BETA Jerry (Lotten here on ) who just simply awesome. Read all of her stories! NOW!**

And btw, I'm sorry about this chapter taking so long to publish. My computer broke down and I forgot to bring the document with me when I went home during Christmas.

**Enjoy!  
**

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**CHAPTER 2 - STUCK**

Draco felt the skin on his hand burn from the boiling concoction and moaned quietly, not completely sure about where he was. Yeah, and there was Potter's hand tightly around his wrist. For the first time, or so he told himself at least, Draco was thankful for Potter's hero complex. If Golden Boy hadn't dragged him aside - even though he surely did it less carefully than he probably would have with anyone he actually liked only to cause Draco some bruises - his whole body would probably be a pile of smoking goo covering the floor by now.

Maybe it was the Gryffindor complex, Draco wasn't sure.

He hadn't realized that the dungeon had been completely silent, with people holding their breaths in fear of accomplishing something even worse if they exhaled. And then, as if someone had pressed a button, everyone started to react. There was a sudden scraping from chairs moving over the floor, voices buzzing with worried undertones and a shocked sound that escaped Slughorn when he realized what had just happened in his class.

His eyes fluttered open just in time to see Potter grimace in agony, unconsciously tightening his grip around Draco's wrist before he, too, opened his eyes and stared blankly into the air for a few seconds before his gaze focused.

"Let me through, let me through!" Slughorn hurried through the rows of benches and his students moved out of his way to let him through, but too curious not to sneak closer the same second Slughorn had passed them.

"Boys, boys, what happened here?" Slughorn was out of breath (not very surprising considering his overweight) and small drops of sweat were clinging to his dangerously red forehead as he bent over them, oozing with heat from going through the room at double speed.

Neither of them answered. It would be more embarrassing to admit their mistake, than to keep quiet and hope that their classmates thought they were in too much pain to speak.

Slughorn didn't wait for an answer and started to examine them with his wand at the ready. He obviously didn't get that their flaming red hands were the source to their pain before Potter moved their still linked hand and wrist a few inches (causing an enormous amount of pain) and got Slughorn's attention.

"Boys, boys", Slughorn muttered to himself and started circling his wand over their hands, concentrating hard on whatever spell he was pronouncing in his head.

A minute passed and Draco felt like shouting something rude about their teacher not even being able to produce the right spell, and still calling himself qualified to teach NEWT-students in potions. Then, suddenly, he felt a soothing, cool sensation rush over his skin. The pain vanished within a few seconds and the comforting feeling lingered like a cooling protection around his hand.

"There, there, boys. Feeling better now?" Slughorn sat up, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his robe and let out a deep breath. "Harry my boy, you can let go now."

Draco realized that Potter was practically holding his hand in the same second as the rest of the class did, and he heard them giggle and whisper, pointing and nodding to their linked hands.

"Yes, let me _go_, Potter." Draco tried to snatch his hand out of Potter's grasp, but failed miserably since the hand around his wrist only followed his move, causing more giggles in the crowd. He started to feel a bit panicked, not quite understanding why Potter just wouldn't let go. There were surely better ways to humiliate Draco, _without_ humiliating himself like this.

"Harry, it was very brave of you to save mr Malfoy, but you two should make you way to the hospital wing, so let go." Slughorn beamed over Potter's Heroic Deed of the Day, but at the same time puzzled over why Potter persisted on holding on to Draco.

The giggles grew louder, turning into laughs and people started to point openly now. Anger started to rumble inside Draco, rushing through his veins along with the hate he felt for Potter, and washed away the small traces of gratitude he had felt for Golden Boy only seconds ago.

"GET YOUR HAND OFF ME, POTTER, BEFORE I _RIP_ IT OFF!" He felt his voice break in an embarrassing way, giving their crowd only one more thing to find hilarious – Draco Malfoy panicking over Harry Potter's touch.

Potter stared at him, looking even more terrified than Draco felt, wide-eyed and red-faced with embarrassment.

"_WHAT_?!" Anger and panic were fighting each other inside his chest, confusing him enough to keep him both from carefully wringing his wrist out of Potter's grasp as well as kicking him away with as much force as he could manage at the same time.

"I can't", Potter said quietly, meeting Draco's gaze for the first time since forever. Looking more stupid than ever, _acting_ more stupid than ever too, when he thought that Draco actually would buy that explanation.

"What do you mean '_I can't'_?!" He tried to snatch his hand out of Potter's grasp again. Failing. _Again_.

"I mean that I _can't! _What part of that five word sentence won't get in your thick head, Malfoy?!" Potter's jaw was clenched and his voice strangled as he tried to control his temper.

"Of course you can", Draco spat and grabbed Potter's fingers somewhat unwillingly, and tried to force them to let go of his wrist. And surely they moved. But so did his skin, stretching painfully as he tried to pull Potter's hand open, still attached to his fingers and fingertips, as if he actually couldn't let go.

_This. Is. Not. Happening. _

"I told you so", Potter muttered, unable to keep some of the triumph from his voice.

They turned to Slughorn, waiting for reassurance, a few words that would tell them that everything was going to be alright. The puffy face looked worried and not at all reassuring, and no words came out of his mouth for a few, painfully long moments.

"I don't understand. This is highly unusual; actually I cannot even recall that I have ever experienced anything similar to this before. I have read about these situations, but never actually experienced anything like this…" Slughorn spoke quietly. Mostly to himself, Draco thought; just typical for that bloody nutter. The thick fingers traced unconsciously the silver rose patterns on the velvet vest, as his mind obviously travelled somewhere else. "Yes, yes, I have no other choice." Slughorn rose suddenly to his feet, causing both Draco and Potter to jerk back and stare at him out of surprise.

"No other choice than what?" Potter asked, looking alarmed and uncomfortable with the attention from the students around them and Slughorn towering over them.

"On your feet boys! We need to see the Headmaster. He will know what to do." Slughorn hurried through the dungeon, still more in his own world than right there and then. "Come on, boys! We need to hurry!"

Potter scrambled to his feet, causing Draco's arm to jerk upwards painfully when he forgot and/or didn't care about their attached body parts. Golden Boy gave him an impatient glare as he got to his feet and grabbed his bag from the floor. They half ran, half stumbled after Slughorn as they tried to catch up with him.

There was a strange feeling inside his chest. Uncomfortable and frightening in a way that he had never felt since he had been trying to fix the vanishing cabinets a year ago; he had been sure that he would never feel like that ever again. Dumbledore had almost died that time, and now he found himself in another situation in which he didn't know what would happen, or what he would have to do to make everything right. Being attached to Potter wasn't exactly a situation he would want to find himself in for too many minutes. Thankfully things like this must have happened before, despite what Slughorn had said earlier. It couldn't be so hard to just cut them loose from each other, or give them some potion that would make everything right again.

Snape would at least know what to do, even if Slughorn didn't. Slughorn had always been an incompetent overweight bubblehead with too much responsibility. And Dumbledore… well, even though Draco had grown up hearing all sorts of things about the muggle-loving Headmaster, he had realized from the very first time he met that piercing blue gaze that Dumbledore was somewhat of an extraordinary wizard. They would be free from each other in less than half an hour, he was sure of it.

The moving spiral staircase to the headmaster's office almost made him feel nauseous, even though he had been taking the same route several times before without feeling anything. It had to be because of Potter, or even more likely the dead fish-smell from the potion that still clung to their clothes.

"I can't believe you misread the instructions, Malfoy. They could've been written for a five year-old", Potter muttered angrily and shot him a poisonous look. Golden Boy's robes were all messy from the potion and his hair was even more embarrassingly untidy than before. Draco had asked himself too many times if Potter even owned a comb, or if he just got up from bed, put on his silly glasses and considered himself ready for the day. On the other hand, Golden Boy had never seemed to care much about his looks. No one else did either, for that matter. All they were interested in was his fame, and honestly; did Potter even have that much of a personality? He always seemed so angry, or just quiet, keeping to himself and his two best friends.

"I didn't misread them. It was probably you, as always." Draco stared straight ahead, trying to stop himself from punching Potter to the ground, or hex the brains – what little he had - out of him. As soon as Golden Boy opened his mouth, irritation crawled under his skin like hot-tempered ants.

The stairs to the Headmaster's office seemed too long, and moving too slow. Draco felt his pulse speed up slightly when his mind slowly began to show him unpleasant movies of various ways in which they could be cut loose from each other. He would prefer if neither of them came true, since he didn't fancy losing his left arm. If they were in fact to be _cut_ loose from each other, Draco was sure that his body parts weren't the ones to be spared if someone had to make a decision about who's arm to sacrifice. Golden Boy's limbs were way too precious to be hanging off Draco's body for the rest of their existence.

Slughorn glanced over his shoulder at them, as if he suspected that Draco would try to kill Harry behind his back. But as much as he hated Potter, he wasn't that stupid. Not only would it be impossible to pretend that he didn't do it, since Slughorn were two feet ahead of them and everyone knew they were enemies, but also because he would be running around with Potter's dead body hanging from his wrist. Which, on its own, probably would make him look slightly guilty.

"There, there boys. Just trot on in, he's probably expecting you anyway." Slughorn waved his hand as if to push them through the door, and Draco put himself purposely half a step behind Potter. Dumbledore and Golden Boy were friends anyway, and seeing the Headmaster in the eye so soon after his near death-experience after Draco had let some Death Eaters into the school didn't really tempt him all that much.

Potter would probably do all the talking anyways, and Draco would look like the moron and, surely, the one to blame, but he didn't really care. Just to get away from Potter and get free from that stupid hand around his wrist would be enough reward to put up with being the black sheep.

"Harry, Draco", Dumbledore greeted them as Potter opened the door and walked in with Draco close behind (like he had a choice). He avoided the blue gaze that always made him feel like his mind was read right under his nose, but noticed Dumbledores slightly raised eyebrows when he saw Potter's hand around Draco's wrist.

"We have a problem", Potter stated.

Sometimes, like now, Draco wondered how Potter actually succeeded with all of his adventures or if it was just pure luck (or maybe Granger did all the work and Potter did a Lockhart to steal the fame), since he stated such stupid things several times a day.

"A problem, Harry?" Dumbledore's gaze fell on their linked hand and wrist, and nodded slightly, like he understood.

"Yes. I don't know what happened, but the cauldron with our potion pretty much exploded and when professor Slughorn had cooled our hands we were stuck like this." Potter raised their hands suddenly to show Dumbledore what he meant. _Because he clearly hadn't guessed already, since Potter and he always walked around hand in hand in school_.Draco glared at Potter, pulling his hand down to his side violently. Golden Boy couldn't seriously think that Draco would accept having his hand and arm waved around as if he was a ragdoll, like that.

"I know what happened", Draco said and met Dumbledore's gaze cautiously, but still furious. "Potter here misread all the instructions on the potion."

"I did _not_." Draco could see how Potter clenched his jaw in an attempt to control his temper and refused to look at him when he replied.

"Did too", Draco mumbled, and felt slightly childish but satisfied.

"Calm down", Dumbledore interrupted them just as Potter probably was about to say "did not". "Are you absolutely sure that you don't know what happened?" He let his gaze wander between them, both shaking their heads.

"Horace, can you please tell me what has happened here?" He turned his head and looked at Slughorn, folding his hands in front of him on the desk and sat back slightly.

"Well, I believe it's a rare phenomenon called _Coagmento._ I have never seen it, not even once, during my years here, and I have only heard rumors about this state a couple of times when I travelled to Asia in my younger years. Something must have gone very wrong with the potion they were supposed to be brewing for this to happen."

Draco felt his heart stop for a second, and it suddenly felt like he couldn't get enough air to fill his lungs. This was a rare condition? Never happened here before? Did an antidote even exist? The nausea from the stairs came back, and he resisted the urge to vomit all over the Headmaster's desk.

"I, too, have heard of this phenomenon", Dumbledore said with the same, calm voice as always. "It has never happened at Hogwarts during my years either, but I know there is a way to detach these boys from each other."

"Of course, of course", Slughorn said, sounding slightly offended. "I will find out everything I can to…"

"That will not be necessary, professor." When Draco heard the cool voice of his Head of House, he felt calmer, safer. Snape always knew what to do. Always.

"Not-not necessary?" Slughorn repeated, looking confused and a little bit ashamed, being corrected by another teacher in _his_ area of expertise.

"No, it won't be necessary, since I know exactly what we have to do." Snape avoided looking at Potter and stared straight at Dumbledore. "It will take months, Headmaster."

"Months?!" Draco heard himself squeak like a little girl who got her first pink pygmypuff, only rather than delighted, he was terrified.

Snape ignored him, and answered instead to Dumbledore's raised eyebrows and folded hands beneath his chin.

"The potion that will erase the link between them will have to brew beneath two full moons, and we had a full moon yesterday. This means that it is almost three months until Potter and Draco can be released from each other."

"Is there any other way, Severus?" Dumbledore asked looking troubled. Probably realizing what Potter and Draco did: If they were to be attached to each other for _three_ months, someone was about to die.

"No."

Draco should've known that Potter would freak out completely over this.

"There _has_ to be away!" He almost shouted, looking like he was giving Snape an order.

"Unless you wish to lose your _arm¸ _Potter, this is the _only_ way." Snape had turned around and glared coolly at Potter. They all knew that Snape wouldn't hesitate to cut Potter's arm off if Dumbledore gave him permission to do so. And they all knew that wouldn't happen.

"No one is going to lose their arm. I suggest Severus and Horace find the recipe for the potion we need and that Harry and Draco stay here to discuss how to make their new state as easy as possible for the next three months."

It was quite obvious to Draco that neither of his teachers wanted to be joined by the other, but that none of them actually wanted to question Dumbledore's order. They disappeared down the spiral stairs again and he was left in the round office with Potter's hand around his wrist. Dumbledore smiled warmly at them, twinkled his blue eyes and looked at them over his half moon-glasses.

"I don't think I understand", Potter said, slowly seating himself on the small bench that suddenly appeared right behind them instead of the chair that had been standing there just a few moments earlier. Draco refused sitting down, causing Potter's arm dangling somewhere between his lap and shoulder, looking ridiculous.

"This is a rare phenomenon, just as professor Slughorn said, Harry. It has never happened at Hogwarts for as long as I have been here, and between us three, I have been here for quite some time." He smiled fondly at them with his long fingers still folded under his chin. "You two will be attached to each other for almost three months and we have no other option than to wait for the cure of this state to be ready, since we will not allow anyone of you to get hurt, as you would be if we were to separate you from each other in any other way."

Draco slowly realized what this meant. Going to class with Potter. Eating with Potter. Doing homework with Potter. _Sleeping_ with Potter. Taking a _shower_ with Potter.

_I'm going to die._

Potter seemed to have realized the same thing and his face was extremely pale. If Draco wouldn't have been in the exact same situation, he would've found it incredibly funny.

"No", Potter said and shook his head violently. "I refuse to."

"I'm not going to sleep in the Gryffindor Tower", Draco blurted out, thinking that if he said it first, Potter would have no other choice than to sleep in his dorm.

"_I'm_ not going to sleep in the _dungeons",_ Potter almost shrieked. What a pansy.

"Of course neither of you will have to change House because of this. We will have to find another solution, since there will be special circumstances with classes, and with food as well."

On some level, Draco was sure, Dumbledore found all of this somewhat funny. As if this situation made him want to laugh, but not in the same way Draco used to laugh when Potter ended up in weird situations.

"What solution?" Potter sounded skeptic and his eyes held a certain glint of panic. Draco would have laughed and mimicked him if it wasn't for that small fact that he himself was in the same situation.

"I believe we will have to find a private room for you, where you both will be served food if you wish so. When it comes to your classes we will have to discuss with your professors to find a way to solve this. For example, Draco, there will be no need for you to attend Muggle studies since Harry has grown up in a Muggle family and knows all about muggles. About your other classes, both of you read the same subjects with a few exceptions. For these exceptions we have to find a way to work with your teachers. Draco, your homework in Muggle studies will be delivered by owl and Harry, you will help him to the best of your ability."

Draco wanted to scream. Just a little. Did Dumbledore really think that Potter would help him without being threatened first? And did he _really_ think that Draco would ask Potter for his expertise willingly? He hated Muggle studies more than any other subjects. Honestly, he would rather have kept going to that half-giant Hagrid's classes than to keep studying muggles. Who wanted to learn about stupid muggles and how they tried to create a working society without magic? But father had told him that he had to study the subject, since it now was required if he wanted a job at the ministry in the future. And he did.

"I will call professor McGonagall to my office and ask her to bring you both to your new room where you will find your belongings. Any questions?"

"Do you seriously mean…that I'm _stuck_ with _him_?" Draco squeaked, feeling like he would faint any second.

"Yes, Draco, that is exactly what I mean."

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**Please R&R**


	3. I say whadeber I wadt

**A/N:** Hiya guys! The response to the last chapter was awesome, and I love you for it! I tried to answer all your reviews personally, but there were a few that I couldn't answer here on FF. I want to take the opportunity to thank "Ammy", "nightsun" and "person you don,t know" here instead. I greatly appreciate your reviews and they all make me so happy!

It didn't take me very long to write this chapter (it's been finished for almost four days, but FF's Document Manager hated on me and didn't want to upload it), but there's not very much happening in it either. I'm not very proud, but I hope you guys find it amusing anyways!

And one more thing! I don't have a great summary yet, because I'm really lousy at writing them. So if any of you come up with one, please just leave it in a review or send me a personal message? I will give you credit of course, and thank you the very best that I can!

_**Please read and review everybody! :D**_

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**CHAPTER 3 - I SAY WHADEBER I WADT**

McGonagall walked in front of them. Fast-paced as usual. She always seemed so busy and important. Draco had always hated her, because there really wasn't any reason to. Except that she didn't treat him any differently because he was a pureblood or a Slytherin. She had always been so _fair_. Harsher against Gryffindor's than Slytherin's, never favoring her own House, and especially not Potter. It would have been so much easier to legitimately hate her, if he actually had a serious reason. Except for the fact that she was so uptight.

He made sure that he walked half a step ahead of Potter, but still on a safe distance behind McGonagall. If she led them anywhere unsafe, she would be the one in trouble first. And if she led them to a place full of treasures, then Draco would see them first and could call dibs on whatever he wanted before Potter even saw them.

Potter seemed lost in thought and didn't say anything. His face showed no emotions with eyes glazed and distant. Maybe he was suicidal? Draco had never doubted that there was something wrong with Potter's brain and that suicidal wasn't such a bad guess, but _now_? Would he have to carry around a corpse for three months? That would be so typically Potter. A pain in the ass, even when he was dead.

McGonagall led them to the eastern parts of the castle, to the second floor, through a painting of a wizard tickling a dragon with the tip of his purple hat.

Students had been staring at them the whole way, and Draco knew that rumors would be out all over Hogwarts before lunch. Most of them probably missed the fact that Potter was holding his wrist, and thought that they were in trouble for fighting. Others would see and make up their own assumptions.

Two rumors would be flying around at dinner. The first: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter had tried to kill each other and now had detention, which would develop into a rumor about one of them killing the other and that _that_ was why none of them attended dinner. The second: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter now were having a _thing, _since they've been seen holding hands in public.

Draco would kill Potter as soon as these three months were over if the second was the one lasting. He would rather be killed by Potter, than kissed by him.

As he walked behind McGonagall he did his best to suppress every thought about daily rituals such as showering, getting dressed, sleeping, using the bathroom. _Shit. _Literally, actually. Potter would watch him do what he had to do on the toilet. And he would watch Potter do the same. Draco felt like vomiting all over again. He would rather get constipated than put himself in that humiliating situation. Yeah, being constipated suddenly sounded like a blessing to his ears.

"Here we are", McGonagall stopped abruptly in front of an arch in the stone wall with three diagonally placed, discolored rocks. They looked water-damaged and a few shades darker than the other. She touched them one at a time with her bare hand and the arch swayed open like an enormous stone door.

Draco hadn't forgotten his plan and stuck his head through the door as soon as possible. But he was disappointed. Sure, the room was a bit alike his room at home at Malfoy Manor. Almost like a really small common room. There were a fireplace on the right wall, with two dark green, velvet armchairs and a crimson couch in front of it. On the opposite wall, well, there weren't much of a wall left, since a huge window took most of the space. A table and two chairs were placed at the foot of the window, making it possible to stare down at the school grounds while eating and avoid any forced conversation. It was so light and nothing alike the Slytherin dungeons. It smelled funny too, old and dusty, though it looked spotless. Right opposite of him a small spiral staircase, with just seven or eight steps, led to what he assumed was the dorm. And to the left of it, a dark wooden door which probably hid a whole hell of embarrassment. A bathroom.

"Food will be served here for you at the exact same time as in the Great Hall. If you wish to eat there instead, feel free to do so. Homework will be sent every afternoon or early evening, at latest right after the end of the last class of the day. There will be no excuses for homework not done. Have I made myself clear?" She gave them both that look. It said so clearly that she wouldn't be any kinder to them now than before and that their new state would change nothing when it came to grading their papers.

"Yes, Professor", Potter said and sounded more strangled than ever. He was such a pansy.

"Have you understood, Mr. Malfoy?" She turned to him, making him feel like a seven year old who was about to attend an event for the first time and was told how to behave by his house elf.

"Of course", he answered coolly and felt irritated for letting his mind wander off like that.

"I will leave you here then. There will be no need to attend further classes today. Let the whispers calm down before you give them fuel to their fire. You will find your trunks in your new dorm." McGonagall turned around, making her robes swirl around her. Almost as dramatic as Snape. Almost.

"Professor", Potter said hastily just as McGonagall was about to leave.

"Yes, Potter?"

"About this…room. Is it accessible for anyone? I mean…I'm sorry, but I think this…" Potter lifted their linked hands in that irritating way again, and Draco snapped them right back down to their sides, glaring at him, but Potter didn't seem to notice. "Er…this is a pretty controversial situation here, right? And…when people find out, it's not going to stop them thinking…stuff. And when they do, or if they do, will they be able to get in here? I mean…you just touched those stones, right?"

For a second Draco was impressed. But then he remembered that it was Potter who had spoken and decided it was just good luck. He wanted to know, though. It was not like he wanted to wake up one morning, after being stalked around school by Creepy Creevey, to find his face inches from a camera lens.

"Don't be silly, Potter", McGonagall snorted and Draco smirked, feeling just a tiny bit awesome for not being the one asking silly questions. "Of course no other students will be able to access this room without your allowance. _Your_ allowance. If either of you says no, the arch will not let them through. To open the arch, you will have to touch the stones with your linked hands. Only you, the professors and the Headmaster has access to this room." She turned once again and left them there.

The silence that was left when the sound of her steps died out was so unbearable that Draco just blurted out anything that came to mind.

"Yes, don't be _silly_, Potter."

"_I'm_ silly? You're the one that has been looking like you're going to be sick any second." Potter glared at him and turned abruptly, taking a few steps towards the staircase. Draco felt his arm jerk painfully and he tripped. Heck, he _tripped_ and fell face down on the floor, dragging Potter with him in the fall. He tried to catch himself against the floor by a simple reflex, but only one hand followed his orders. The other was in a helpless mess, tangled in Potter's body. He fell clumsily to the side, feeling his wrist twist awkwardly before Potter's weight crushed him. For a second he considered lying there, pretending to be dead, or almost dead, but then he realized that it would be dead awkward the same second Potter understood that he wasn't dead, or dying. And it would be even more uncomfortable, and embarrassing, if Potter thought something completely different, like those morons that stared after them in the corridors.

"Move! Bloody hell, Potter, _move_!" He tried to shove Potter off in panic, and struggled to free himself from Potter's limbs that seemed to be everywhere. It seemed to take a few seconds before Golden Boy reacted – maybe his famous Seeker reflexes were growing old – and hastily got to his feet, jerking Draco's arm once again.

"Will you _stop_ trying to rip my arm off?!" Draco felt like yelling in a high pitched voice. A tiny part of him felt like crying too, but he wasn't going to admit that.

"Get over yourself, Malfoy", Potter snapped and glared at him, clearly irritated. "Are you going to be lying around there moping all day?"

"I'm not moping", Draco muttered and scrambled to his feet, hoping Potter wouldn't see that traitor flush on his cheeks. He concentrated on rubbing his slightly hurting wrist and made the conclusion that it was fine.

"Of course not", Potter said sarcastically and began to walk towards the stairs again. Draco hurried after him, not wanting a trip down the stairs if he could avoid it.

The dorm was small but just as light as the common room. It had a quiet feeling, and a smell of cleaning spells lingered along with the particles of dust that danced in the air and faintly shimmered in the sunlight that flooded through another enormous window to their left. A few rays of sunlight had travelled across the room to the single bed covered in red and silver sheets, with green and golden pillows. This was just silly. And it looked horrible, too, just for the record.

"Oh, well", Potter said quietly, shrugging, causing Draco's arm to jump slightly.

In that moment, it was just too much. Was it going to be like this every second of every day the following three months? As soon Potter moved, Draco's arm would follow like a dead house elf on a stick? He almost considered walking back to Dumbledore, praying to get his arm cut off so that he at least could have some privacy. But he wouldn't, of course.

"I guess we just have to endure", Golden Boy added and then they both stood there awkwardly, side by side. Completely silent for once, not even glaring at each other.

Draco watched how their every breath made the dust particles swirl in the air around them. He felt sort of empty when he thought about what he could have been doing now, if Potter wasn't so stupid and had misread the ingredients. Even though his friends nagged him to bits most of the time, they were his friends. And Potter… Potter was Potter. He hated Potter, and he owed Potter for saving his life too many times. How did you behave around a person you hated, but who had flown over raging fire to save you on his broom. Oh well, that sounded so wrong that he wasn't even going to think about it. It was Potter's job, right? That's what he did. Saved people. Right.

"What happens now?" Potter worriedly interrupted his thoughts in a very irritating way. "I mean, we can't stand here staring all afternoon."

Once again, Potter did his famous act of stating the obvious. Like Draco didn't know that they couldn't stand there forever.

"I know, Potter", he spat irritably.

"So what do you want to do, then?"

_I'd very much like to stun you, thank you very much. _

"Will you just stop asking me those stupid questions? When I know what I want to do, I'll tell you."

Potter shrugged, causing his arm to jump again and Draco felt like ripping his own head off or maybe beat it against a stone wall for a solid two hours or so.

"Fine." He barely heard Potter's voice as he said it.

While they stood there staring and thinking too much, Draco felt the skin on his wrist under Potter's hand hurt. It only ached a little, but enough to make sure that once he realized that it ached, he wouldn't be able to forget it. He assumed that the effects of the cooling potion were wearing off.

A low thud from downstairs caught their wandering attention and Potter seemed to transform before his eyes. Automatically hunching slightly, bending his knees a little and reaching for his wand. It took a couple of seconds before Draco understood Potter's odd reaction and realized that he made himself ready for self-defense – or murder, who knew? Sometimes, like now, Draco actually wondered how much Potter had experienced when it came to fighting. His reaction was so unlike Draco's own first thought, which was that his mom had sent him a package, and he could only guess why. He really didn't want to know, but according to the Prophet and the Quibbler, along with Witch Weekly, Potter basically invented the whole wizarding world, saved them all from dying of all possible reasons one could think of, re-lit a dying sun and tamed dragons in his backyard all at once. How Potter's thick head was able to do anything but have regularly melt-downs was still a mystery.

"Potter, seriously, don't be such a drama queen. It's our homework." Draco snorted and took the lead down the stairs. And he had been right, of course. On top of the small table lay two piles of parchment, looking dangerously tiring.

The right pile was marked by his name and he couldn't suppress a sigh when he saw the bunch of notes, muggle newspapers and an intraction manual to whatever the muggles had invented now. Draco tossed it aside on the table. He glances over at Potter's pile, which was a lot smaller and only held a couple of notes from Slughorn and reading advice from Flitwick to catch up with what they had missed out on.

"What's that?" Potter nodded towards the intraction manual on the table.

"It's an intraction manual", Draco snorted. Potter of all should know, he was the muggleraised one, right?

"A _what_?" Potter picked up the manual and looked at the picture on the cover. "Oh, it's for a flatscreen TV."

_A flat…?_

"I knew that." Draco glared at him and snatched the intraction manual out of Potter's hands. It was his homework, and he didn't need Potter's help to be able to do it right.

"I'm going to invite Ron and Hermione over", Potter said all of a sudden, changing subjects so unexpectedly that Draco almost shrugged and nodded before he realized what Potter just had said.

"_No_, you're _not_." He turned around and narrowed his eyes at Potter. The mudblood and the weasel were not welcome. Ever.

"Why not?" Golden Boy tried to sound persuasive, and must have been really desperate to even try to _convince_ Draco into spending time with _those_ two.

"Because it's suicidal enough to have to be around you, and with those two as well? Not going to happen, Potter." He saw how Potter clenched his jaw again. Irritated now.

"I need to talk to them, and Hermione might help us with this whole situation of ours."

"We don't _need_ any help, Potter. There's nothing to do about it. And if there was, I certainly wouldn't want help from _her_." Draco spat out the last word like it was something disgraceful and didn't have time to react before he felt Potter's fist smack into his chin.

"Don't you dare say anything like that about Hermione ever again!" Potter yelled and launched another punch at Draco. His nose started to bleed instantly and he tried to shield himself from Golden Boy who didn't seem to be able to control himself.

"I say whadeber I wadt aboud her!" He tried to jump away from Potter, but realized two seconds later, when Potter's weight smacked him to the floor for the second time that day, that jumping away from someone you were glued to wasn't such a good idea. Instead he started punching back.

"You're such a foul git, do you know that?!" Potter's voice seemed distant and ended in a low grunt when Draco smacked his fist into his temple.

"I'b dot ad I hade you! Bhy do you albays have to bess up by life, Potter?!" He started kicking like a little child, flinging his fists at Potter wherever he could. It was a bit hard to hit Potter with his left hand, though, since Potter tried to hit him with his right. Therefore their linked hands ended up in an embarrassingly odd waving-motion between them, not really doing anything but looking ridiculous.

"I hate you too! You have destroyed _everything_, _always!_"

If anyone had walked in that second, they probably would have laughed or shook their heads with raised eyebrows. Or both. They must have looked like five-year olds, kicking and hitting while lying on the floor, screaming how much they hated each other.

"I dod't care! I haded you firsd! I hade you bore!"

And then it all sort of died out in an instant. Potter sighed as moved away and sat up next to him, causing Draco stare in confusion. The adrenalin was still pumping in his veins and his brain wasn't fully connected just yet.

"It's no point. We're still stuck. We can't even fight properly because of this stupid gluepotion-thing." Potter waved his…_their_ hands to show what he meant, and Draco snapped them right back down again. "It's just stupid."

"Oudch", he muttered bitterly as his shoulder was jerked upwards by Potter's wave and started to wipe the blood from his nose with the back of his hand.

"Sorry." Potter let his other hand fall and stared blankly in front of him.

"I sdill hade you", Draco whispered and stared up at the ceiling, unconsciously hoping to get the last word.

"It's called an instruction manual, by the way", Potter said after hundreds of uneven breaths had passed between them.

_Oh, right. _

"I dew dhat."


	4. I'm taking my underpants off now

**CHAPTER 4 – I'M TAKING MY UNDERPANTS OFF NOW**

**A/N**: Hiya! Thank you all for the awesome response on the latest chapter. Made me a happy fish! :D

And there were, as always, a few of you guys that don't have a penname here, so I couldn't send you a private message as an answer on your reviews. So thank you to **X, nightsun **and** amyinwonderland**! I'm so happy that you all left a review and I wish I could thank you all more.

All of you who read and don't review - please do! It gives me _so_ much more inspiration to continue writing!

**So here's the next chapter.** It took me ages to finish it due to a number of reasons, but here it is, a little longer than usual to compensate!

_Awkward showering-scene, as promised._

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Draco was quite sure that he was going insane.

All evening he and Potter had sat in silence, doing their homework and being perfectly good at ignoring each other. Draco's hand had ached like mad, since he was left-handed and Potter's bloody arm was hanging off his wrist, and felt like it weighed a ton. Now his shoulder hurt too, because he hadn't said anything to Potter or asked him to help a little with actually moving his arm instead of letting Draco drag around it whenever he made a new paragraph on his parchment. And Potter never understood anything on his own, so Draco's left arm – no, his whole left _side_ was probably paralyzed for good just because of him.

On top of that he had barely understood a thing about his mugglestudies homework. He was supposed to do crosswords in muggle newspapers and he had been able to get two of the words right out of fourteen. And he wasn't going to ask Potter to help him. Ever. He still had three weeks and four other crosswords to go, until he was supposed to be finished.

Like that hadn't been enough, even though they both tried to pretend like they weren't tired at all, they had to go to bed. They had struggled to keep their eyes open until two, but when Potter's head had slid out of his hand and fallen with a crash into the table, almost like it wasn't attached to the rest of his body at all, they gave up.

It had been really awkward to undress and to spell their robes open to even get their attached arms out of their clothes, and to do the opposite thing to get their pajamas on. Draco had refused to look at Potter or even acknowledge his presence. It was too embarrassing, and he hoped so bad that Potter didn't see the scars across his torso from their accident in the bathroom last year. He didn't want to give Golden Boy that satisfaction of having scarred Draco, leaving his signature on his skin like this. It was proof for anyone that Potter was his superior. Well, most people seemed to be of the opinion that he was everybody's superior.

And now he was lying there, staring up in the white ceiling and trying to ignore Potter's mumbling and how his arm yanked sideways every time Potter tried to turn away from him. Were they supposed to be able to sleep in the same bed? Seriously? Draco kept his distance and kicked Potter hard if he was anywhere close to moving over to Draco's side of the bed. Potter had fallen asleep relatively fast and Draco couldn't understand how he was able to do that. He felt so tired, but still too uncomfortable to sleep. He didn't dare close his eyes if he woke up with some silly mustache painted on his face, or anything else embarrassing. He didn't trust Potter, not like this.

Golden Boy whined in his sleep and tossed restlessly from side to side. Draco rolled his eyes and grabbed his wand. Potter wasn't going to destroy the only time he was able to be almost by himself, and didn't have to listen to Potter's stupid statements of the obvious. With a quick flick and a mumbled _silencio_ he quieted sleeping ghoul down. Potter continued to toss around, but Draco was quite certain that Golden Boy wouldn't wake up happy if he took it all one step further and stupefied him. It was tempting though.

"Gee, Potter! What's wrong with you?!" He resisted the temptation to hit Potter hard as he felt his arm being yanked so hard that he fell over when Potter threw himself around. It was like he panicked in his sleep, kicking and probably screaming, though Draco didn't hear (thank Merlin) since he was brilliant enough to use a silencing charm. Draco mentally patted his own shoulder and rolled his eyes over Potter once again.

The minutes felt like hours, and he knew that he really should get some sleep if he was going to be able to interact with anyone at all the next morning. With who, though? It wasn't like Pansy and Blaise were going to sit down and talk with him when Potter was his sockpuppet. _A sockpuppet out of control_, he thought to himself as Potter almost kicked him in another panic outbreak. This was insane. Did he always do this when he was asleep? How did the others _stand_ this? Draco could barely stand watching it; it was that annoying. Potter demanded full attention even in his sleep, like he couldn't get enough of his life in the spotlight while awake.

Draco snorted loudly and closed his eyes in an attempt to shield Potter out of his mind and thoughts. It only ended up with him staring at Potter in panic every time the bed shook as he tossed around, and Draco was sure he was about to get hexed.

Two hours and forty-six and a half minutes later – Draco knew because he had regularly cast the tempus-charm only to be disappointed of the slowly counting minutes – Potter finally calmed and Draco let himself slowly drift away. It was not like Potter could run away if he'd hex Draco anyway.

It felt like two seconds later, when he sat up in panic and stared wildly at Potter who stared back, looking equally panicked.

"_What?!_" He almost shouted at Golden Boy, who looked highly confused.

For a short second Draco couldn't remember why they were in the same bed, and it seemed like Potter was in the same situation. Draco lifted their linked hands and held them up in front of Potter's face. Two seconds later Potter looked a little less panicked.

"I forgot", he mumbled and looked away, probably feeling embarrassed.

"Of course you did", Draco snarled and cursed Potter inwardly for his disrespectful way of waking people up. "You're an ass, Potter."

"Yeah? Oh well, at least _I_ know it's called an instruction manual, and not _intraction_ manual, or whatever you said yesterday." Potter snorted while he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

"That's what I said." Draco lifted his chin stubbornly and sat up at his side of the bed.

"No it wasn't", Potter said irritably and sent a dark glare across the bed. Draco avoided his gaze effectively.

"Yes, it was, Potter. Maybe you should start to listen, or did your mom forget that part when she raised you?" Two seconds later he realized what he'd just said. If it had been anyone but Potter, he'd probably feel slightly bad, or a little bit guilty at most. But he couldn't now. It was against his principles.

"I guess she did", Golden Boy answered shortly. Draco had expected a rage outburst and perhaps a fist planted in his face, but nothing really happened. Was Potter immune?

They dressed in silence. The spells they had used last night were used again and Draco felt a little bit less naked and exposed when he was in his regular suite of self confidence and with his prefect badge neatly fastened on his chest.

They had Transfiguration first period, and after lunch Draco was supposed to go to Mugglestudies, but hadn't Dumbledore said just yesterday that he didn't have to attend? He didn't know what Potter had on his schedule, and he wasn't going to ask either. It wasn't like he was going to encourage Potter to go to his classes when Draco rather hid in their own common room.

As they walked through the corridors to the right classroom, with their robes over their hands so no one could see their linked body parts and mistake them for holding hands, Draco could feel the smell from their accident still stuck in their clothes. From time to time he felt like vomiting, but it wasn't like that would make it any better.

Draco felt like dying every time people stared after them, and they stared a lot. Potter seemed just as uneasy with the attention, which Draco found strange. It was like he wanted to flee as soon as people started to whisper behind their backs. And one would think that Golden Boy was used to the attention, but he obviously wasn't. Potter looked like he'd rather sink through the floor than be the center of everyone's attention.

"Let's go, Potter", Draco snarled and dragged Potter along, zigzagged between glaring students and felt a rush of relief when he saw the old wooden door to the Transfiguration classroom. Potter hadn't said a thing since they left their dorm and seemed distant. Draco didn't really care, but it annoyed him anyhow. He felt like Potter should be the one in control in these situations. He was the famous one and should know how to behave. Instead he reacted like he'd never met people at all.

McGonagall was already there, along with a few other students, among them Hermione Granger. Potter's puppet.

"Take your seats, boys", McGonagall said, not taking any particular notice of them. Draco felt every head in the room turn to look at them, but tried to act like he didn't care. Tried to not care. He dragged Potter along with him. He scanned the room in hope to see some of his own friends, but none of them were there yet. He cursed his own stupid idea, that is was cool to show up the last second before class started, because he now had to _hope_ that his friends would sit down next to him when they showed up, or he had the _awesome_ opportunity to sit next to Granger or Weasel.

"Harry!" Granger's theatrical whisper penetrated its way into his mind and he sighed inwardly. He didn't have a choice now. Well, at least Granger was Potter's friend and wouldn't make fun of them, as a few other students would. Granger wasn't going to be mean to Potter, and Draco was _glued_ to Potter, so she wouldn't hex him either. For Potter's sake.

Potter pulled his hand and Draco rolled his eyes to show his annoyance. Potter wasn't going to know that Draco was actually quite pleased with the way it all turned out now.

"Hermione!" Potter said with an all too obvious tone of relief.

"Oh Harry, what happened to you? Why are you with him?" She stared at Draco and Draco stared back. He wasn't afraid of her. Sometimes his jaw hurt slightly at the sight of her, as a memory from their third year, but nothing more than that. And she was a mudblood after all. Nothing special.

"The potion turned out to be all wrong", Potter said, like it was something strange that _he_ made a potion that wasn't perfect. Draco snorted and Hermione gave him that look of disgust that she always gave him every time she saw him nowadays.

"Yes, so?" She nodded encouragingly.

"Well, it sort of glued us _together_", Potter whispered and held up their linked hands, which, of course, Draco snapped right down again. There was no reason to show off.

Granger slapped her hand over her mouth and looked extremely shocked. Draco wanted to laugh, since it was such an overreaction. He didn't even know people used that gesture to show their surprise anymore. He'd seen some of the ghosts do it, but they were like four hundred years old. Not seventeen.

"That's horrible!" she said, finally, and stared at Harry, behaving like Draco wasn't there at all.

"Why, thank you, Granger", Draco said dryly, making sure they all knew he was right there, not invisible and not dead or anything.

"It's probably all your fault, Malfoy." She gave him that look again and Draco glared back. He really hated her. Sometimes even more than he hated Potter, strangely enough.

"Oh, yes, blame it all on Malfoy", he answered and rolled his eyes. "If it wasn't for Potter here, we wouldn't be glued at all, but since he has his little hero complex, we're stuck like this for three months."

"Three months?!" Granger slapped her hand over her mouth again.

G_eez, really?_

"Yeah, sorry", Potter said, shrugging.

They sat down. Potter next to Granger and Draco as far away from her, leaning in the other direction in his seat, as he could. It was quiet for several minutes and Draco watched more students turn up and stare at them before taking their seats. Whispers started to fill the air, and Draco tuned them out. He heard Granger sniff in the air and wondered silently what the heck she was doing when she turned to Potter.

"Harry, I'm really sorry to say this, but you really smell _bad_."

Draco saw Potter flush and smiled arrogantly, before he let it faint with the insight that _you_ probably meant him too.

"Yeah I know…", Potter said quietly. "I think it's the potion and I've changed my robes and everything, but it's like it's stuck to my skin, you know. I should probably take a shower, but…" He nodded towards Draco.

"Hell _no_, we're _not_ showering. Forget it." Draco stared at him for being so stupid that he even thought such a thing. Weasel looked like he was going to puke and faint all at the same time by the mere thought.

"That's what I meant, Malfoy", Potter said with a sigh and turned to Granger again.

"I…I feel so sorry for you, Harry", Granger said and her bushy hair swayed slightly as she shook her head to show her compassion with Potter.

Why wasn't anyone feeling compassionate with Draco? It wasn't like it was the biggest joy in the world to be stuck with Potthead. Like he was such a gift to Wizarding World. Like even his farts were something special and treasured. Draco rolled his eyes again. He really wouldn't be all that surprised if it turned out that some odd witch somewhere actually snuck after Potter and tried to collect his farts in a bottle or something. People seemed to go crazy around him. Literally crazy. Sometimes he wondered if he was the only one who really understood how Potter really was. That he wasn't such a nice guy, savior of the world or whatever. He was pretty much an ass, but who would believe that? Since Skeeter strangely switched sides from saying that Potter was a mental, to writing twenty pages about his heroic deeds, no one dared to say a single bad word about Potter out loud. Sometimes even the other Slytherins said he was overreacting and silly for ranting about Potter's stupidity for a few hours in a row.

Weasel didn't say a thing. It was like he was in too much of a shock to even get a functioning reaction from his brain. He just sat there, staring at them, nodding slightly whenever Granger said something that sounded remotely intelligent.

Draco snapped out of his thoughts when McGonagall clapped her hands and claimed their attention. He didn't feel like listening or learning right now. His hand still hurt from writing with Potter's weight dangling from his wrist, but he wasn't going to complain out loud. He sighed inwardly and started to scribble down that McGonagall said. When he glanced sideways he almost laughed out loud. Potter's parchment looked like a five yearold who just learned how to write had gone berserk all over it. Oh well, that's what happens when you try to save someone, getting your right hand glued to someone's wrist while not being, indeed, left-handed like Draco.

"Oh Harry", Granger whispered quietly. "I'll copy my notes for you, since you're right-handed." And then she glared at Draco like it was _his_ fault that Potter had been stupid enough not to learn to write with both hands, since he was so determined to get his wand-hand glued to another person. Stupid. Stupidstupid_stupid_.

"What?!" He couldn't take it. "It's not like I put Potter's hand on my wrist and drenched us in glue. I didn't force him to grab me!"

"Mr. Malfoy, will you please be quiet, because you are interrupting my class with your comments." McGonagall gave him the evil eye and Draco wanted to yell that it wasn't his fault that Granger hated him without a good reason. Well, except for the obvious ones, of course.

He was quiet the rest of the class and stared blankly at McGonagall, not listening but still somehow interacting enough to not make her ask him any questions to punish his ignorance. He scribbled down whatever she wrote on the black board, just to give Potter the impression that he was actually listening, and to feel the sadistic joy when Potter sighed irritably when his hand was yanked quite hard every time Draco skipped down a row a little more brutally than usual.

He felt a short rush of relief when McGonagall finally called class dismissed, and threw his parchment and quill in his bag. Potter was slow though. It was taking him ages just to collect his stuff with his left hand, and his attempts to get them into his bag in a somewhat normal state made Draco want to lie down and sleep for a while, because he was so sick of waiting.

Granger gave Golden Boy that compassionate look and Weasel had turned his back on them. He had only sent Potter notes during class – well, that was, _after_ he had woken up from his apathetical state. And Draco couldn't even read them, because every time Weasel was about to send the notes over with a flick of his wand, Granger snatched them out of his grasp and charmed them blurry to Draco's eyes.

It was so unfair. But whatever Weasel had on his mind couldn't be of too much interest, since Weasel was both poor and stupid. And had red hair. Draco mentally puked when he thought of Weasel's hair, and how it seemed to be the worst combination of scarlet and the most tasteless color of orange one could ever find. Draco was thankful that both of his parents were good-looking, and that he had inherited all their best features.

_Yeah, he was quite a looker, really__._

Draco squeezed all of his parchments and his quill into his bag, not caring if they got wrinkled or not. He just wanted to get out of there fast, before the corridors were filled with nosy students who had heard the rumor about Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy being _attached_ to each other. But Potter didn't seem to realize this and stood there, struggling with his left hand and dropping his quills and parchments all over the place, while Draco stood there sighing and feeling the stress of the situation rise. He didn't want thousands of eyes staring at them the same second they put their feet outside that door, and he knew that people would be waiting just to get a glance of their situation. _Heck,_ people waited for _Potter_ in his normal state. And the two archenemies glued together? He groaned inwardly only from thinking about it.

"Potter, Malfoy, will you please stay behind a few moments. I need a word." McGonagall waved them towards her and Draco felt his pulse fasten. This couldn't be good. At all.

"Yes, professor", they muttered univocally and Potter's crew gave him that pathetic, compassionate look again, which made Draco want to hex their eyes out. They walked the few steps down the classroom until they stood in front of her, with Potter still struggling with his parchments and bag.

She wrinkled her nose slightly and raised her eyebrows in a very meaningful way.

"I realize that neither of you find this situations very likeable, am I right?" She gave them that look that made sure that neither of them could do anything but nod and look miserable. "But that is no reason for any of you to behave in a way that is inferior to that of our other students. I cannot allow you to go to class, smelling like you do, since we require from our students that they take care of their personal hygiene."

Draco thought he was going to faint for a split second.

"But professor, I won't shower with him. _Ever_." He stared at her and wished so hard that she would crack into a great smile, dance for a while and tell them that it was one big joke.

"Mr. Malfoy, you were on the Slytherin quidditch team for four years and I believe that you, as well as the Gryffindor team, shared the same room while showering, am I not right?"

"Yes, professor, but…" he started, but she interrupted him.

"The mere reason that two people do not like each other, is not enough for me to not require that they follow the rules set for this school, and respect each other enough to forgo their former disagreement." She said it with such authority that Draco didn't dare to say anything about him refusing to be naked in the same room as Potter. They both just nodded and hung their heads.

"I suggest that you take the rest of the day off to take care of this, and that you two learn how to get along, or this will be three incredibly long months for _all_ of us." McGonagall had the frightening capacity to scare people into obedience without doing much more than to stare at them and talk in a very firm voice. "Well, off you go."

Draco was sure that death was near when they opened the door to the corridor, and expected to be overthrown with whispers and pointing fingers. But the corridor was empty and he remembered, after a few seconds of shock, that the next class had already started. For a second he wondered if McGonagall had done this on purpose, as if she had spared them a moment of public humiliation without letting them know that she was secretly on their side.

_No, not McGonagall._

Potter was quiet and Draco didn't want to be the one to speak first. It was an uncomfortable silence that made him feel like he was walking towards a certain death, almost like he had during last year. He shook the thoughts of last year out of his head. It was the past.

As they had wandered around for a while, Draco realized he was only following Potter, since he didn't remember which way to go. They had probably left McGonagall's office forty minutes ago and still weren't back in their dorm. Draco started to wonder if Potter really knew where they were heading.

"Are you sure this is the way, Potter?" he said dryly and Potter almost jumped as his voice broke the silence.

"I have no idea, I was following you", he answered coolly and glared at Draco.

"I was following you."

"Crap."

"Are you telling me that we're lost?"

_Bloody heroic Potter can't even find his way back. Bloody heroic, but with absolutely no sense of direction. __Great, just great._

"I'm telling you that I thought you knew something for a change", Potter muttered and started to fumble after something in his bag. It looked like it didn't go too well since Golden Boy swore under his breath and seemed to give up.

"Will you hold up my bag for me so I can get my map out?"

"Your _map_?!" Draco echoed, wondering if Potter really had that bad sense of orientation that he needed a map to get around the school every day. Then he had to have a worthless sense of direction _and_ suffer from a constant amnesia.

"Yes, my _map_. Here, hold my bag." Potter put his slightly dirty bag in Draco's hands and started to dig in the total mess of old quills and crumpled up parchments. Draco couldn't help but to get curious and that was probably the only reason why he didn't drop the bag immediately. A map? Potter needed a map? This was too good to be true.

"Here it is", Potter said, probably mostly to himself, and tried to unwrinkle an old piece of parchment. It was empty and Draco had an annoying feeling that Potter just made him look like a complete idiot.

"Great Potter, funny. Now let's go. I don't want to be here when class ends." He tried to give the bag back to Potter, but Golden Boy gave him an irritated look.

"Wait, hold this too", he pressed the parchment into one of Draco's hands and before Draco had a chance to get scared and/or drop the _"map"_ when Potter raised his wand, touched the parchment with the tip of his wand and muttered something under his breath. Potter snatched the piece of paper out of his hand and stared at it intently. "It's just up these stairs and then the first corridor to the left. Come on, let's go, Malfoy." He folded the parchment quickly and put it back among the other in his bag, before he took it from Draco's hands and flung it over his shoulder.

Draco didn't have time to ask, because Potter started to move hastily, aiming for the stairs, and Draco remembered last time they had tried to do different things, causing him to fall flat to the floor. He'd had enough of public humiliations.

A sigh of relief left his lips when he saw the familiar arch and stone wall with the discolored stones. As they touched them with their linked hands a strange calm feeling slowly sank over him. He sort of knew that they were safe from anything but themselves on the other side of that wall, and when it came to dealing with Potter, he'd had just about six, turning seven, years of practice.

But as soon as the arch had closed behind them his gaze fell on the tiny door that led to their own personal torture chamber. The bathroom. In his annoyance about being lost, he had totally forgotten that they were supposed to get a shower or they would probably get detention tomorrow, after which they'd have to shower anyway.

Potter seemed to realize that in the same second Draco had.

"If you even as much as sneak a peak of me, I will kill you myself", Draco snarled and walked determinately towards the bathroom.

"Yeah, because you usually send your hired people to do that?" Potter snorted, but looked almost as terrified as Draco felt.

"Shut up, Potter. Remember that you're about to get naked in front of me. I might just _laugh_."

_Wow, what a threat. Laugh? Really? _He resisted the sudden urge to kick himself and kept his determined face.

"Yeah, because I have never had you laughing on my behalf before." Potter clenched his jaw, obviously not as comfortable with the situation as he wanted Draco to think that he was.

Draco didn't answer. The door to the bathroom was way too close now and he really didn't dare to open his mouth. Chances were that vomit would come out instead of words.

A low creak broke the silence as Potter pushed the door open and a vague smell of citrus filled the air. The room was white and all shiny clean, with a simple shower, toilet and sink. Towels in red and silver, green and gold hung by the shower and Draco felt like a cold hand squeezed his insides.

Neither of them moved for several minutes and stood there staring, listening to their combined panicked breaths and rapid heart rate. It was even more obvious now that Potter was just as scared as he was.

Draco felt like he had to man up. When they talked about this later with their friends, he would be the brave one, having control of the situation and making Potter look like a sissy. Slowly he spelled his robes and shirt off, turning away, once more worries that Potter would see his scars. He felt his left arm move slightly as Potter did the same behind his back, probably turned in the other direction from Draco.

"I will shower first, and you will turn the other way, got it?" Draco snarled, feeling slightly panicked and scared. What if Potter turned around and laughed? Not that he had anything to be ashamed of, but if even _some_ of the rumors about Potter were true…

_Heck_ no. Potter's prick was probably about the same size as a thumb, or three peas on a straw. Draco would look like a basilisk in comparison._ Yeah, a basilisk. Definitely. _

"Yeah, and then it's my turn, and you'll turn away", Potter said firmly and Draco could hear the low sounds of clothes falling to the floor. Crap, Golden Boy was doing this so much faster than him.

"Yes, and then we will get dressed, still turned away from each other." He hastily got out of his shoes, socks and then unzipped his trousers. This was the hardest part, except for actually taking his underpants off.

_Merlin, I can't believe I'm getting naked with Potter. _

"Yes", Potter confirmed and Draco realized that they had some sort of silent agreement now. If neither of them peaked, this had never happened. And as far as he knew, no one would ever dare to ask either of them how it was to shower with one another. Maybe Creepy Creevey, but he was suicidal or something even worse.

Draco let his trousers fall to the floor and stared down at his boxers. This was it, then.

"I…I'm taking my underpants off now", he said quietly. Somehow he felt like he had to inform Potter about this. As if he had to know so that he wouldn't turn around and see _everything_.

"Er…yeah…me too", Potter's answer was just as quiet.

Draco let his boxers travel down his legs and felt his pulse fasten in some sort of adrenaline mixed panic. He stood there silent for a few moments, staring terrified into the wall in front of him.

"Are you…are you…_naked_?" he asked finally when Potter didn't make a sound.

"Yes."

"Don't turn around."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Draco didn't even care about the snide remark and they took the few, awkward steps towards the shower. He was glad that the showers had been charmed to always contain hot water, so that he didn't have to suffer from a cold water-incident, he already felt more humiliated than he had ever felt before in his life. Not even being transformed into a ferret in front of the whole school had anything on this.

**_Please review_**


	5. Goft

**CHAPTER 5 - GOFT**

**A/N:** I have the most awesome readers ever, yeah you guys! And the best beta in the world – Jerry, but she's aaall mine!

I, as usual, want to thank a few of you that I couldn't send a private message due to disabled private messaging functions or no FF-user (at least that I know of).

So HUGE thanks to: nightsun/nightmoonski and MalfoysBtch (sorry, but your name made me giggle)!

And another awesomely HUGE thanks to CeilingFan who left me this really long review which made me all happy fish once again. Long reviews makes me happyhappy, so I thought I would appreciate those who take their time to write one, a little bit extra. And another enormous thanks (I'm running out of synonyms here,haha) to Lucy'sDaydreams, who's an awesome writer and always cheers me on! _THANKS, this chapter is dedicated to both of you!_

* * *

Draco stared blankly at the crossword in front of him, trying to ignore Potter's aggressive attempt of scribbling next to him. His handwriting hadn't got much better since he'd tried to take notes during transfiguration yesterday.

Taking a shower together had made everything even more awkward between them (and Draco had thought that wasn't even possible) and now they tried to ignore each other the best they could. Actually, they hadn't said a word to one another since Draco had asked Potter if he was dressed yet, a couple of minutes after their shower was over.

He tried to forget all about it, since it had been one of the worst experiences in his life. Even facing the Dark Lord had sort of been easier than showering with Potter. With the Dark Lord all you had to do was obey, and with Potter? He wasn't sure what was the best thing to do, because he couldn't figure Potter out, at all.

Most often he was the bastard Draco always knew he was, but sometimes he acted so strangely, and Draco couldn't understand why. Like yesterday, when Golden Boy didn't seem to know how to behave with all the students staring at them, as if he wasn't used to the attention.

It was probably just to try to act modest, but Draco couldn't figure out why he'd want that either. Actually, Potter could probably act like a real dick and no one would really stop worshiping him anyway. People were just stupid.

He stared at the crossword again. Still no clue what a nine letter word for a pocket telephone could be. He barely knew what a telephone was, so how could he possibly know this? It wasn't fair that he was supposed to manage these three months without attending class, with only Potter to help. Not only because Potter was stupid, but also because Dumbledore had been dumb enough to even think that Draco would ask Golden Boy for help. What curse would both of them have to be under to do anything like that?

Potter swore under his breath and Draco, for once, understood exactly how he felt right now. It wasn't helping that even more homework had arrived that afternoon and Draco already behind. He didn't know how Potter was doing, but he was quite sure that, without Grangers help, he was behind too.

He gave up. This was only going to end with him getting angry, and that wouldn't help him understand either. And to read those boring books about muggles while Potter sat next to him? He wouldn't be able to concentrate on the words enough to understand them anyway. As he let his gaze slowly find its own way through the huge window, he automatically tuned Potter out of his world. Some students were standing at the shore of the lake, laughing and playing around. That could have been him, Blaise and Pansy by now, if Potter hadn't been so stupid.

Potter's hand tugged his wrist a little when he moved in his seat, trying to find a better position to get his handwriting somewhat more readable. Draco felt the skin under Potter's hand ache slightly, as it always did when he moved. He had a theory that the part of his skin that was covered with the dark mark was somehow more sensitive and therefore felt like it burned under Potter's touch. Or maybe he was allergic to Potter. It was a quite believable theory too.

He knew that he should laugh at Potter, trying to torment him for being so lousy that he couldn't write with his left hand, but he didn't feel like it. It was one thing to be an ass to Potter, and having Potter being an ass to him, when he could walk away whenever he wanted to, or knew that class would be over in a certain amount of time. But now? He couldn't walk away with the winning words left in Potter's face, or hex Potter before running back to the safety of his common room. He was stuck here, with Potter, and being an ass wasn't very tempting anymore.

"Hey, Malfoy…" Potter's voice made its way into his semi-consciousness and Draco turned his head slightly towards Golden Boy, to let him know that he was listening, without taking his eyes off the students fooling around outside.

"I thought", Potter began hesitantly and Draco saw him flip his quill from side to side between his fingers, out of the corner of his eye. "Well I was thinking, that maybe Ron and Hermione could visit us, and then you could invite some of your friends over, you know. It would be fair, right?"

Draco felt like fainting of the mere thought of inviting his friends over for tea with Potter, or something similar. Like they would even show up, and if they did, what would happen? Would any of them behave? And it wasn't like he felt like spending time with them around Potter anyway, because when he was around them, the thing they mostly talked about was how much he hated Potter, how worthless Gryffindors were, or how much _they_ hated Potter. And none of the above were discussions Draco felt Potter should be involved in. He would probably have a whole lot to add to the conversation, but surely nothing that neither Draco nor his friends would like to hear.

"Malfoy?" Potter tugged his hand and Draco wasn't sure if it was consciously or not.

"No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"I mean that I don't want them here. I don't want my friends here either. End of discussion." He had expected Potter to start a fight again, or hex Draco unconsciously within five seconds, but he sat there quietly, not even answering. Draco turned slightly to look at him, and was surprised to find that Potter had returned to his books and had started to scribble his awful handwriting all over the parchment again. Somehow, that got Draco more insecure than if he'd started throwing things around him.

For a few moments he just sat there, wondering why it was so important to Potter to see his friends. It couldn't be very tempting to place them in the same room as Draco and hope that they all would behave, because everyone knew they wouldn't.

He slowly drifted way again, turning his gaze to the window and the students outside. They were still fooling around. Draco snorted inwardly and rolled his eyes. They were acting like little kids now, not like fifth years. Sometimes he wondered why so many of his age acted like no one raised them and taught them manners. Some of them ate like pigs, with the cutlery held wrong, and most often with the wrong hand as well. It was strange. If he'd eaten like that around his parents he would have been excused from the table immediately

"Hey, Malfoy."

Once again, Potter's voice found its way into his dreamland of thoughts. It was starting to get on his nerves. Why wouldn't Potter just leave him alone and pretend like he didn't exist like he had done before? It had been bliss.

"What?"

"Do you want to play scrabble or something?"

Draco had no idea what _scramble_ was, but that Potter even asked him to play what he at least _thought_ was a game made him somewhat curious. Once again, why? They weren't friends. Merlin, they were as far from friends one could be.

"Play what?" He was too interested in Potter's strange behavior to sneer a cold reply.

"Scrabble?"

_Scrabble, not scramble. _No need to give Potter more opportunities to make fun of his lack of knowledge about muggle words.

He raised an eyebrow, not wanting to waste his precious words on a question that should be obvious, even to Potter.

"Oh well, I forgot. I play it all the time with Hermione and Ron. It's a muggle game."

Draco rolled his eyes. Potter obviously got the unspoken question, but he didn't realize that a "muggle game" didn't give Draco much information.

"Yeah, Potter, I got that much, otherwise I'd probably know about it."

For a second he was sure that Potter blushed, but then Golden Boy cleared his throat, looking unimpressed and put his parchments to the side.

"Well it's quite simple. You get seven letters each to begin with, and then you get new ones as the game goes on. Anyway, it's really easy, all you have to do is form words with your letters. If I begin with the word _shoe_, for example, you could create a word with your own letters and one or more of the ones already out there…"

Draco let his mind wander. Potter was lousy at explaining easily. He seemed nervous about the attention and anxious to get the instructions right. Wasn't he the one that had a secret Defense Against the Dark Arts-class during their fifth year? Potter was weird and Draco found it harder for every second they spent in each other's presence to figure him out.

"…but since I'm not very familiar with all the words in the wizarding world, and you're not very good at muggle words, we can use both. It would be fair, and…"

Fair? Golden Boy seemed to use that word a lot too. Did he really care? Since when did he care about what was fair?

"So…do you want to play?" Potter had probably noticed that he had tuned out for a second or two. He considered this for a moment. Playing a game with Golden Boy? Really? Well…it couldn't be a lot worse that spending the early evening with staring out the window.

"Alright. But only because I have nothing better to do, since I'm stuck here with you." Draco was just making sure that Potter didn't think that he actually _wanted_ to play a game, because he didn't.

"Yeah, whatever. We have to go and get it though, it's in my trunk." Potter made an attempt to get up from his chair, but Draco snapped him right back again.

"Are you stupid, Potter?" he snarled and felt like rolling his eyes again, but resisted. Did Golden Boy really forget that he had a wand? Or was he just too much of an idiot to remember how to summon objects?

"What do you mean?" _Yeah, obviously too much of an idiot._

Draco sighed and raised his wand, causing Potter to flinch slightly.

"_Accio Scrabble", _he said quietly and felt a rush of pleasure when he saw a worn box drift down the stairs towards them. He felt extremely good when he saw how stupid Potter felt for not thinking of that simple spell.

"No need to thank me, Potter." Draco let a smirk spread over his face and sat the box down gently at the table with a flick of his wand.

"I wasn't going to, actually. I gave up manners years ago when it comes to you, Malfoy." Potter lifted the lid from the box and put the board down on the table in front of them. It looked almost like a crossword to Draco, and he immediately got a bad feeling from it. But he couldn't back down now.

"Here, pick seven of these. You can't look at them yet, though."

Draco picked seven of the white squares and put them in a straight line in front of him. He watched Potter pick out seven for himself and placed them on the tiny rack where, Draco guessed, they were supposed to be.

"Well, you can look at them now, just not when you're picking them. Place them here-" Potter tapped on the small, orange rack in front of Draco with his index finger. "-and then I'll let you go first."

He started to put the letters on the rack, neatly in a row and arranged them in alphabetical order as he went on. He scrutinized them carefully and let his fingertip slowly slide across the row of white squares. His mind worked hard on arranging them into a word, any word. He _had_ to be able to make up a word now, or Potter would laugh at him.

He felt the seconds tic on as a rigged bomb and almost started to cold sweat when his mind cleared up. He put the letters on the gamepad triumphantly and leaned back in the chair proudly.

"_Crup_?" Potter raised his eyebrows and gave him a suspicious look. "What's that?"

"It's like dog." The feeling of being a tiny bit awesome came back, warmly welcomed. Potter had no clue. This was just too good to be true. "With two tails." He motioned two of his fingers as a wagging tail. _Well, two. _

"O-kay." It was obvious that Potter wouldn't pick up a fight right now and Draco saw his opportunity. _Potter would never know… _

Not that he was going to admit it loudly, ever, but Scrabble was actually kind of entertaining. Especially when he made up words so easily, claiming them to be well-known objects in the wizarding world. On the other hand, Potter came up with words he had no idea what they meant.

"So what's…I can't even pronounce that." Potter frowned and stared in disbelief at _goft_. Draco had meant to put down _gift_, but he was missing an _I_, so, as any other good Slytherin would do, he created a new word.

"Well, if you had actually been listening to Professor Binns, you would know that it was with a _goft_ that one of the two famous…_Annhem_ brothers got killed." He suspected that Potter had figured out his act, but he didn't say anything about it.

The pile of letters became thinner as the minutes went by. They didn't say very much, except for when Potter questioned one of Draco's made up words. It was sort of soothing though, the quiet sounds of the plastic squares being placed on the gamepad and the creaking from the chairs whenever they moved.

"What's _cellphone?_" Draco glared at Potter, resisting to be fooled by the odd word. It had, from the beginning, been the word _cell_, that Draco had put there half an hour ago, one of the few words that he came up with that actually existed, and now Potter started to add letters, creating a word Draco had never heard of and was sure didn't exist.

"It's like a portable phone. You can have it in your pocket and take it with you. Well, muggles use phones to communicate. It's a bit like floo-conversation, you know, except…"

"I know what a phone is, Potter", Draco snapped and felt irritated. _One, two, three…yeah nine letters._ So that was the correct word, on that stupid crossword. Bloody Potter. Helping out even when he didn't know about it. Bloody Golden Hero-complex Boy. Always needed to help.

"I believe I won and I don't want to play anymore." He stood up, not taking any notice of Potter or whatever he wanted.

"Actually, you lost. You missed all the bonuses, see." Potter pointed at a different colored square on the gamepad and Draco rolled his eyes in disbelief.

"Yeah, right."

"No, seriously, I told you that when I explained the game to you."

"I can't remember that part. It must have been your imagination." He glared at Potter who looked irritated. It pleased him in some sort of way. Whenever Potter was irritated, Draco was pleased. That was how he functioned. He could have the lousiest day, but if he met Potter and Potter looked miserable in any way, he immediately felt a lot better. It was like he fed of Potter's misery. Potter probably fed of his too, though, so it was completely mutual. Or _fair_, as Golden Boy would've said.

"You know, Malfoy. You really suck, since you can't even win when you're cheating."

"I didn't cheat!" He wanted to hit Potter hard in the face with the heaviest book he could ever find in the library. He didn't though, not only because it would be too much of a struggle to even get there with Potter pulling his arm, but he didn't feel like dragging an unconscious Potter back to their own dorm after hitting him in the head.

"Yeah right. I'll ask Hermione about that _goft_-thing tomorrow." Potter snorted and Draco stared out the window in an attempt to retain self-control. It was dark outside now. It must have been hours since they started their game.

"She's a mudblood, what does she know about history?" Draco answered coolly and kept his gaze away from Potter's victorious face.

"Cut it, Malfoy." He could hear the poisonous anger enter Golden Boy's voice now. He didn't want another nosebleed so he left the subject. Sort of.

"They're not welcome here, you know. I won't let them." Well aware of that he acted and sounded like a stubborn five year-old, he raised his chin and looked over Potter's head.

"Yeah, you said that before."

Potter kept quiet even as they undressed and got in their pajamas, turned away from each other, of course. Golden Boy had collected all of the white squares, except for the Z Draco still had in his pocket, which he had hid there because he couldn't use it, and had picked out another letter instead. He figured he'd keep it though, it was worth ten points after all, and he could find use for it some other time. And then Potter had packed up the game in silence, like Draco wasn't even there. He had carefully put on the lid to the box and held it in his hands as if it was a treasure. Draco hade scoffed. That old, scruffy box could easily be replaced by a new one. The whole game should be replaced actually. Some of the letters were barely visible. Draco couldn't understand how Potter could hold on to that thing.

He stared out into the darkness of the room, hoping that Potter would fall asleep soon so that he could have some time alone, at least. Potter still moved around like he tried to find a comfortable position and pulled his end of the sheets almost aggressively, as if they didn't work with him.

"Hey, Malfoy." Potter's voice sounded sleepy at least, when he broke the silence oceans of time later.

Draco only grunted an answer.

"I cheated too."

"_Shut up, Potter!_" He yanked Potter's arm hard as a punishment and added quietly: "I hate you."

Golden Boy chuckled, all too well aware of that he just won today's battle. Draco swore inwardly. He couldn't stand this. It felt like _ages_ of horrible time spent with Potter was left until he would be free of this torture. On top of it all, his wrist ached under Potter's hand again. Bloody dark mark. Bloody Potter. Bloody Scrabble._ Bloody everything. _

When Golden Boy started kicking and whining in his sleep a while later, Draco almost automatically casted the silencing charm on him, feeling some sort of relief and gratitude towards magic. At least he didn't have to put up with Potter's attention seeking at night.

_Oh yeah, cellphone. Had to remember that. Filling the crossword in. Cellphone. Right. _


	6. Why are you nice to me, Potter!

**A/N: **Wow, the reactions to the last chapter have been overwhelming! You make me feel awesome and _so_ happy!

As always there are a few people I would like to thank in the A/N, since you guys had private messages disabled or simply not a penname on .

**Ash, Ralaj and nightmoonski**: supermegaawesomehuge thanks to you guys! Reviews make me so happy, and yours are not an exception! Enormous amounts of love to you!

If I have forgotten to answer anyone's review, I am _so_ sorry! It has been a stressful week and I usually write down which reviews I have answered and which I couldn't answer for different reasons. I try to make sure that I thank all of you personally, but as I said, it has been a stressful week. If I have forgotten you, please review again and I will make sure to answer _all_ of you this time! And that's a promise.

I also would like to thank Herr Sten and Lotten (that's Jerry, my beta), because they are simply the most awesome people that walk this earth.

Herr Sten: thank you for spending a huge amount of hours writing with me, sometimes until four in the morning. You are always urging me to write more, and all of your honest feedback along the way has really made me a better writer. You are also my dearest friend and someone I trust more than anyone. Thank you. 3

Lotten/Jerry: I LOVE YOU! You are the best beta in the world and I would have _no_ readers if it wasn't for you. Your comments in the chapters make me really happy and I am so thankful that you take your time to beta my chapters. You are also one terrific writer and I look up to you and that you _like_ my story makes me want to scream really high-pitched and jump around on the street really girly, while clapping my hands frenetically.

As for my readers: you should _really_ check out Herr Sten's and Lotten's stories here on . They're awesome and you'll love them!

End of rant of love and a few words about the chapter: it's quite long, and a bit stupid (I believe) but I hope you'll like it and I really tried to finish a little faster this time, since I always seem to keep you guys waiting for ages.

_Enjoy!_

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**CHAPTER 6 – WHY ARE YOU NICE TO ME, POTTER?!**

Draco recognized the handwriting on the back of the envelope in the same second as he spotted the square piece of parchment lying neatly on the table in their common room. It was from his mother. Potter didn't seem to have noticed it at all and focused on the breakfast that was prepared for them.

He had never really realized that two people could eat such different breakfast and in so different ways. Potter ate fast, practically stuffed his mouth full of egg sandwiches and pumpkin juice, while Draco took his time, chewing slowly on his scones and drank his tea little by little, so that it was almost cold when he finished, in contrast to the nearly burning heat when he started. Good tea got ruined by using the heating spells his mother had taught him, and Draco didn't want to ruin his tea.

On the other hand, it wasn't such a surprise that he and Potter didn't do anything alike.

"You got a letter?" Potter didn't seem to care all that much, when Draco picked up the envelope and opened it with a flick of his wand.

"Uh, yes." He tuned Potter out automatically as he unfolded the letter and read the three paragraphs written by his mother.

_Draco,_

_Dumbledore contacted us a minute ago to let us know about your accident in potions. What really happened? You already know that I don't trust information relayed in second-hand and I would like for you to tell me the story from the beginning to the end. As your mother, I am very worried._

_He also let us know that you are attached to Harry Potter? You can surely imagine what your father's reaction to that news was. I have had the houselves repair our china all morning. _

_Your father has gone __to Diagon Alley to find someone to help you out of this situation, since I believe that you are not very comfortable with having to spend a whole lot of time with Harry Potter. I believe though, as I told your father, that Dumbledore would not have informed us until he was completely sure that there was no other way to solve this, than the solution already at hand. _

_I beg you to behave your best, because even if you have had your differences with Harry Potter, I am sure that I have always raised you to be respectful to those who have earned our respect, and Draco, as your mother, I do have to respect and be grateful to the person that have saved my sons life, and you should too. _

_Love,_

_You__r mother _

As Draco folded the letter again and but it back in its envelope, he stared out the window. Be grateful, to Potter? His mom knew what the right thing to do was, but she obviously didn't understand how much that was to demand of him. Apparently he could put up with Potter's presence for longer than he had ever thought he could, but to be all grateful to Potter for still being able to walk school grounds, or to even be alive? Yes, he was thankful, but not to Potter. Never to Potter. He would have to think this over and write a reply later today.

"Who was it from?" Potter had stopped with his hand with a sandwich half-way to his mouth and looked curiously at Draco.

"My mother."

"Okay." Potter didn't seem to care, so Draco found it annoying that he even had to ask questions he didn't have anything to do with. "I have actually wondered why she hadn't sent you one already."

"What do you mean?" Why did Potter even bother? It wasn't his business if Draco got letters or not, was it?

"Well, ever since I can remember, probably since our first day of our first year, she has sent you a letter every day and at least one package with sweets a week." Potter shrugged, like it was normal to behave like some kind of creepy stalker, like Creevey, and actually remember how many letters and packages a week other people got, especially when it wasn't about his friends.

"Wow, Potter, you really are a freak", Draco sneered and Potter gave him an odd look that he didn't understand. Actually, he never understood Potter at all. Then he smirked as he remembered the howler Potter got in their second year. "Actually, I remember quite well that howler Weasels _mother_ sent you." He made sure he pronounced the word _mother_ in such way that there wouldn't be any doubt that he was of the opinion that Weasels mother really didn't deserve to be labeled as one.

"It wasn't for me, it was for Ron. As for me, the Dursleys probably couldn't care less if I returned to my school in a flying car or in a rat cage." It was obvious that he had upset Potter with his emphasis of the word.

"Yeah, who cares, it was the best day of second year without a doubt." Draco shrugged. He really didn't care if Potter was upset or not, since he seemed to be such a drama queen at all times.

"For you, maybe", Potter said quietly and Draco wasn't sure if he was meant to hear Golden Boy say that at all. It seemed to him that Potter often used to think out loud, not remembering that he was in the same room as Draco, not Weasel and Beaver.

"Have you been at Weasel's house?" He smirked as he remembered all the rumors about the scruffy cottage Weasel and his family lived in.

"Are you stupid? Of course I have." Potter glared at him, obviously already aware of where Draco was taking this.

"So, how was it? Did you get any rare diseases or rashes?"

"It's nice. And no, I've never been better than I was there." Potter was angry now and Draco felt the familiar pleasure. He needed revenge for yesterday.

"They all sleep in the same room, right?" He felt some sort of happiness too. The kind he always felt when he made sure someone had it a lot worse than he did.

"_No. They. Don't._" Potter was going to snap any second now and Draco smirked. "Just quit it, Malfoy."

He was about to say something snide in return, but his eyes fell on Potter's wrist watch and he yelped as he flew up to his feet.

"Crap! Get up Potter, seriously, we need to hurry!"

Golden Boy seemed startled and for a second suspicious that Draco was only playing a trick on him, but half-a-breath later, he was standing next to Draco, just as panicked. Ten minutes to class and they were nowhere near the right classroom.

They half-ran though the school, thankful for their intense quidditch training, zigzagging between students and statues. Some portraits told them to slow down, or someone would get hurt (Draco wasn't sure if it was actual concern that they might knock over a first year in their hurry, or actually a threat), but Draco just waved them off. They didn't have the time now. McGonagall wouldn't be pleased to get another report of them not behaving as expected of them, and would probably take an enormous amount of points from both houses.

"I can't believe that you always have to slow us down. Why did you need to eat that much for breakfast?"

"Some people, like me, eat because they're hungry. Just saying."

Draco almost tripped over his own feet when he tried to kick Potter's legs from under him as they ran. He straightened up though, before Potter discovered his failure. First years stared at them in terror and Draco realized that they probably thought that he and Potter were chasing each other, and not time. Since when had they been so tacky in their fights that they would actually chase after each other like five-year-olds? Draco snorted loudly and Potter glared at him, thinking it was all about him as always.

Flitwick was just about to close the door when they turned the corner to the right corridor. He gave them that slightly tired, but friendly look as he stepped aside for them.

"Precisely in time, boys. Please take a seat." His high-pitched voice tended to give Draco a severe headache, but the subject had always been one of his favorites. Flitwick was a good tutor and very patient, which Longbottom should be thankful for, since he took about four times the amount of time to learn something, compared to the rest of the students.

Potter stopped for a second and Draco almost bounced into him. Nearly all the seats were taken and Draco realized that Potter had stopped because the seats next to Weasel and Granger already were occupied by two of the Gryffindors. Draco thought one of them was named Finnegan, but he wasn't sure. His gaze fell on Pansy and next to her: Blaise. They had a seat next to them on either side, just to make sure that no one who wasn't a Slytherin would dare to sit next to them.

He tugged Potter's arm discretely, noticing how Potter seemed so extremely uncomfortable with the attention again, with their whole class staring at them. He prayed that he wouldn't need to ask Pansy and Blaise to move over, that they would understand by themselves, to prevent the feeling of public humiliation if they for some reason (that was Potter) said no. Pansy reacted when Draco caught her eye. She started to collect her things hastily and poked Blaise's ribs with her elbow in the meantime. Blaise gathered his things quickly and they scrambled one seat to their left, to leave Draco and Potter room. He was forever grateful. Right now.

Potter didn't seem very thankful for the fact that he had to spend the lesson in the company of three Slytherins instead of one. But he did seem happy enough to flee the attention from the class, that the company of Slytherins didn't matter enough to start a discussion about it.

Pansy smiled at Draco when they sat down. She had obviously missed him, and honestly, he had missed her too. The evenings in their common room seemed far away right now. Three months to go before he could ever be there again, joining their hatred towards Gryffindors and Potter. For a second he wanted to cut his hand off and walk with them for lunch in the Great Hall. But he couldn't now.

"How have you been?" Pansy's whisper caught his attention and she looked slightly worried, frowning at him.

"Fine. Bored to death, though." She didn't want him to complain about all the nights when he couldn't sleep because of Potter's attention-seeking, or the horrific moments in their bathroom. That wasn't the way their friendship worked. Since the Dark Lord had died and Draco had left his service, they never spoke about serious matters. It was like there wasn't any room for those subjects any more. After summer break they all answered _fine_ on the question how their summer had been. Draco's summer had been the worst yet, second only to the summer before when he had joined the Death Eaters.

Blaise laughed silently over Draco's remark about Potter's tiring company and Potter himself seemed irritated.

_Congratulations Potter, now you know how I felt every second of sitting next to Weasel and Beaver. _

Draco basked in the feeling of his superiority during the whole class. Flitwick was actually interesting for once, talking about obstacle removing charms and letting them practice far more than he preached. Potter looked tired and Draco felt invincible with his friends by his side. He could even ignore Potter when he tugged Draco's hand moving around in his seat and the never-ceasing ache in the skin under Potter's grip. As the class drew closer to its end, he felt slightly panicked. He didn't want to separate from Pansy and Blaise now, but Potter wouldn't want to join them for lunch. He would probably not even want to set his foot in the Great Hall, even if he could sit by his precious Gryffindor table. Draco would have to trade.

As his mind wandered off, searching for something to trade with, his attention snapped him back when a low _bang_ echoed through the room, accompanied by Flitwick's shrieks.

He turned around in his seat and heard Pansy and Blaise laugh loudly at the sight of an absolutely horrified Weasel who had just torn his own books apart by mistake. But Draco didn't laugh. Instead he took advantage of the sudden commotion.

"Potter", he whispered as he tugged Potter's arm for attention. "I have an offer for you."

Golden Boy turned to him with a tired look in his eyes. As if he was sick of Draco's offer even before he'd heard it.

"What _offer_?" For a second, Draco wanted to laugh at Potter's stupid glasses as they made him look more dumb than usual, as Golden Boy raised his eyebrows in an attempt to urge Draco on.

"Listen, I know you want to spend time with Weasel and Granger, right? But I don't-"

"Yeah, I know you don't, Malfoy", Potter interrupted him and turned around in his seat to look at Weasel again.

"I wasn't finished." Draco yanked Potter's arm hard and Golden Boy turned around again, looking more irritated than ever. "I said I had an _offer_, Potter, not an opportunity to rub your misery in your face."

"Fine, just say it."

"If you let me have lunch with Blaise and Pansy, at the Slytherin table, in the Great Hall…"

"I _know_ where the Slytherin table is", Potter glared at him and Draco smirked.

"Just making sure there's no room for loopholes, Potter. If you let me eat with them, I'll let Weasel and Granger visit you today, for let's say…half an hour."

Potter seemed to think this over carefully, probably comparing pros and cons and so on. Potter never knew when to grab an opportunity.

"An hour", he said finally. "If you let me see them for an hour, from the moment they step in to our common room, not a second earlier, then it's a deal."

_An hour with Weasel and Beaver? No way. _

"Forty-five minutes", Draco said sternly and glared at Potter. They didn't have much time left. Flitwick had restored Weasel's book and they room started to calm down.

"Fine, forty-five minutes."

"Class dismissed", Flitwick squeked and clapped his hands.

A combined rumble of moving chairs, gathering of books, parchment and quills and the sudden explosion of voices talking and laughing filled the room.

"I'll eat with you today", Draco tried to keep up with Pansy and Blaise as he stuffed his bag with one hand. He was afraid that Potter would slow him down on purpose, but it didn't seem like it, as Golden Boy hastily put his books in his bag.

"Really?" Pansy lit up and smiled at him. It made him feel good, still welcome even though he had a parasite dangling from his wrist.

"Yeah, as I said, I got bored."

She laughed and seemed pleased to have his company at lunch. He hoped that Potter would keep a low profile and keep in mind that Draco was just as capable of ruining moments as he was.

"So, how is this working out? Rumor says that you'll be stuck with _him_ for six months." Pansy nodded sideways towards Potter as they followed the moving masses in the corridors towards the Great Hall.

"Three. It feels like six already, though."

She gasped, not very unlike the way Granger had, and stared at him.

"For real?" Blaise had reacted too, obviously of the opinion that this was insane. Draco agreed. Three months with Potter should be an illegal torture method, like _crucio_.

"Yeah. Dumbledore says they can't do anything but wait right now, but my dad is looking in to it. Hopefully he'll find someone more competent than Slughorn."

Both Pansy and Blaise made a face when he said Slughorn's name. Even though Blaise was one of their corpulent teacher's favorites, he wasn't very fond of the man.

"You don't sleep with the Gryffindors, do you?" Both Draco and Blaise snorted over Pansy's choice of words and she giggled when she realized what she'd just said. Even though he hated her unnatural giggle, he had sort of missed that too.

"I mean, you don't sleep in the Gryffindor tower, do you?"

"Of course not. Dumbledore gave us our own space. Do you really think that I would put up with Creepy Creevey and his muggle toys?" Draco drawled and both Blaise and Pansy looked relieved. Had they really thought that Draco would share room with Gryffindors willingly?

As they sat down at the Slytherin table he could feel the stares burn in his skin. It felt like the whole hall had turned their heads towards them and _stared_. Potter looked numb. Draco felt like panicking and running away from it all. On top of that, it was like Pansy and Blaise ha realized that they sat across the table from Potthead and the conversation they had in the corridor died brutally. As they ate in silence, they listened to the whispers and giggles that found new ways, poking them in the back of their heads like an attention-craving three year old, accompanied by the stares that still burned, and let a few lame conversations about homework and the new essay die between them.

This wasn't the way it was supposed to go. They should have the best conversation in a long time, making Potter feel like the outcast he was, and Draco would be so pleased afterwards that he actually didn't care about Potter's friends coming over. But this was nothing like he'd hoped. It was like they had nothing to say. Had all of their conversations been about Potter? Things they couldn't talk about in front of Potter? They couldn't be. What had they been talking about for six year before Draco got _glued_ to Harry _"I'm so awesome"_ Potter? He had no clue.

Pansy looked like she was in pain and Blaise tended to look the other way, just to avoid Draco's gaze or the misfortune of catching Potter's.

He felt stupid now. Like he had given Potter the best way to be an ass to him for free. _Look Potter, my friends and I have nothing in common, now how many insults can you make up of that?_

He was relieved that they could spend the afternoon's classes without Pansy and Blaise. It all passed in a numb fog.

"Hey, we should go back to our common room now, right?" Potter's question woke him up from his far away-land and he raised his eyebrows towards Golden Boy.

"Yeah? Do you need to ask for my _permission_, Potter?" he snapped and Golden Boy looked confused, and looked like he tried to flatten his hair with his hand nervously.

"No, I just thought that maybe you'd want to do something else first." Potter shrugged and Draco felt like someone had hit him in the head with his broomstick. Potter asked because Draco might want to do something else first? Was there a disease going around the school that he wasn't aware of? Had they practiced kindness-charms and exaggerated on Potter? He was too shocked to come up with a snotty retort.

"No."

Potter shrugged again and they walked back to their common room in silence. Draco's head felt like it would explode of all the thoughts in his head that bounced around in there in confusion. He really didn't understand Potter at all. At all. And he probably never would either.

"So…" Potter began as the vault closed behind them. "When is it okay for Ron and Hermione to come here? It's okay if you want to do some homework first…"¨

"Potter _what's wrong with you?"_ Draco felt like slapping Potter over the head with the nearest book.

"I just thought that you'll be here too, and…yeah. What time?" Potter looked at him strangely and Draco did the huge mistake to actually meet his gaze for once. Was that pity in Potter's eyes? Really? _Pity? _

"Stop asking me all of these stupid questions." Draco thought Potter knew better. He thought that Potter would have stopped feeling bad for him ages ago.

"Okay, I'm just asking." Potter shrugged again, looking down as if he was all innocent and had no real intentions for all of his questions.

Draco snapped for real.

"WHY ARE YOU NICE TO ME POTTER?! I DON'T NEED YOUR PITY!" He threw his heavy bag right at Potter who jumped sideways just in time to avoid it. He seemed unaffected by Draco's outburst.

"I just thought that your day as been bad enough as it is, with your friends and all."

"IT WAS ALL YOUR FAULT! YOU'RE STUPID! I _HATE_ YOU! IF YOU HADN'T BEEN THERE, IT WOULD ALL BE NORMAL!"

And then he punched Potter in the face.

Draco didn't know why, but he felt some sort of relief every time Potter hit him back. They rolled around on the floor, kicking and hitting just like the first day. Behaving like kids all over again. It felt good taking his frustration out on Potter. It wasn't like Potter was going to lose good looks by a broken nose anyway.

"I hate you", Draco said half-strangled with Golden Boy's arm pressed over his throat as he kicked Potter's leg as hard as he could. As he put his hand over Potter's mouth in an attempt to push Potter off of him, he thought he heard Potter mumble something about hating Draco too. Like that was a surprise.

He was sure his nose bled again, that his chin was swollen and that he would have giant bruises all over his body. But it was worth it. He couldn't stand to be pitied by Potter.

The next second he felt his body separate from Potter's except for their attached body-parts and become paralyzed. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't continue kicking Potter.

Golden Boy seemed to suffer from the same problem and they both struggled to get free from their paralytic state from the neck and down, when they heard McGonagall's voice.

"I am _very _disappointed."

As she stepped into view, Draco found the ability to move again and sat up. It was humiliating to have her look down at them when they sat up, but he was not going to lie down with a bleeding nose and a black eye and listen to her speech.

"Did I not tell you to work this out? I believe it was pure luck that Ms Granger and Mr Weasley heard you fighting through that wall, and it takes more than a few kicks to be heard through a stone wall, _Mr Malfoy_", she added his name in a very threatening way when she saw him roll his eyes, and gave him a look that made him want to hide behind Potter and blame it all on him. "If you two cannot behave, I will have to put Mr Filch here for surveillance for twenty-four hours, _every day_. Am I understood?"

"I'm allergic to cats", Draco sneered, confident that she couldn't be serious about that. Filch was gross and had other things to do.

"I am a hundred percent serious, Mr Malfoy. Do you want to challenge me on that part?"

_Filch? For real? Filch? And his bloody cat? _

Draco gave Potter a horrified look and Potter seemed equally horrified as he stared back.

"I'm sorry, professor", he mumbled and Potter nodded next to him. "It won't happen again."

"I sure hope so, because, as Mr Potter very well know, I do not make empty threats."

And then she turned around, with her robes dramatically hitting them in their face, and she waved Granger and Weasel on in front of her and marched out. Draco let out a breath he hadn't been aware of holding and lay down on the floor again. He felt his body ache as the adrenaline left him and Potter sank down next to him.

"Seriously, Potter. We can't keep fighting. My face is way too precious and I won't have Filch watching me sleep while poking his nose."

"Yeah." Potter was silent for a few tired breaths. "I agree."

"Do you want to play Scrabble?"

"No."

"Good. I need to use the bathroom."

"Forget it."

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_**Please leave a review!**_


	7. Potter, we need to talk

**CHAPTER 7 – HEY POTTER, WE NEED TO TALK**

**A/N:** Hey guys! I'm sorry for taking so long, writing this chapter. It would have been finished long ago if my computer hadn't died TWICE during the process of getting it finished. Anyway, this is it and I hope you'll like it. This is a chapter when they sort of…learn to live with it each other. Yeah, sort of.

I would like to thank you _all_ for the great response on the last chapter. I love reading your reviews and it really keeps me going. I hope that I have answered them all, or send me a PM and I will! I do my best to try to remember to give you all a personal answer, but my memory isn't the best every day.

I would also like to dedicate this chapter to my friend Angelica. I miss her a lot and I hope we'll keep in touch for a very long time. Thank god for facebook, right?

I would also like to dedicate this chapter to all of you guys. If you weren't reading, I wouldn't keep writing. True story.

And, of course, to my awesome beta Jerry – thanks for putting up with me, hahaha.

I would also recommend you to read an awesome fiction named: My sweet prince, by Herr sten. Great writer and friend. Go read! Now!

_As for now, enjoy the chapter and please review!_

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When Draco woke up that morning, he knew there had to be a change. The short time that had passed since their little accident had been a blur of misery. Draco had never felt that his privacy had been so violated before, and now, there was a new threat to his privacy: Filch. His hatred for Potter and the fact that he had to wake up and go to sleep with his enemy every day for three months, was still a small price to pay compared to what life would be like if they got twentyfour-seven surveillance by Filch. Potter didn't smell as bad, actually had nicer teeth and, Merlin forbid, less terrible hair. And…he couldn't get rid of Potter, and it was better to spend three months with one person that made his life miserable, than two.

As they ate breakfast in silence, he thought about what he would say to Potter about his proposal of a temporary truce. "_Hey Potter, we need to talk." _Or not. They weren't in a relationship, _merlin no_. _"Potter, I've been thinking about our situation."_ No, Draco didn't think about Potter at all.

"Hey, Malfoy, I think we should stop fighting."

_Well…that worked too. _

For a while he was thinking about disagreeing with Potter, just for the sake of it, but then a picture of Filch leaning over him, staring at his sleeping face, made him change his mind.

"Yeah…I agree", he answered quietly, staring blankly out the window. No sign of students or animals that had escaped that half-giant's care. It was probably too early still. He had been surprised to find that Potter was an early riser, too. That was how Draco had been raised: Told that it was important to get up early so that the day didn't escape you, to take care of the few hours of light the day had to offer. Even as a kid, he had enjoyed spending the early hours with a cup of tea in his hand, gazing out one particular window in his room with the best view of the fields beyond Malfoy grounds. He always felt an odd satisfaction every time the first golden ray searched its way over the fields and crept up over the mansion's walls, slowly finding its way into his room and causing his crystal chandelier to make its shining reflections dance over his face. He could stand there for a good three hours before moving on with his day and all the must-do's. He wondered what Potter would think about experiencing the sunrise in Draco's room, having the reflections of the sun dance over his face… Draco shook his head violently. Potter in his room? No way.

"So…" Potter said slowly. "What do you want to do today?"

Draco stopped himself from flinching in shock, not expecting friendly words from Potter, and composed himself before answering.

"I need to do some homework, and write a letter." He swallowed as he forced the next, polite phrase out of his mouth. "What about you?"

"Me too. Flitwick has lost me already."

"I thought you were pretty decent at Charms", Draco said smugly and watched Potter's face out of the corner of his eye. But Potter didn't get upset, maybe too determined to get along with Draco from now on.

"Yeah I am, when I have Hermione teaching me. I never understood Flitwicks methods, maybe they work for everyone but me…" Potter shrugged before he continued. "But I've been okay, since I've always had Hermione helping me, explaining everything I didn't understand in class, you know."

"Really?" Draco hated his voice for sounding so astonished, as if he really believed that Potter was a brainiac or something, but he was surprised that Golden Boy actually needed extra help after class to manage one of his subjects. "I always thought it was one of your best subjects."

"Well…no", Potter answered shortly and returned to his breakfast. Draco felt somewhat pleased with himself as he let his gaze wander through the large window again. Tiny drops of rain had started to fall over the lawn in the morning sun, and he found himself wondering whether this was what it would look like if it started raining diamonds. Probably not, though, he thought dryly. There would surely be a bunch of crying, bleeding students running around with books over their heads for cover, and the whole Weasley family crawling on the ground, trying desperately to put as many diamonds in their soiled pockets as they could.

Draco entertained himself for a while with the thought of the Weasley family chasing diamonds, and forgot all about Potter and their linked body parts until Potter tugged his hand lightly.

"You done?" He sounded apologetic almost, as if he felt bad for interrupting Draco's amusing fantasy (a very, thank god, non-sexual fantasy, Draco added to himself).

For a few seconds Draco had no idea what Potter meant and stared blankly back in Golden Boy's face. Potter had to nod pointedly towards the half-eaten breakfast on the table, for Draco to understand.

"Oh, right. Yeah, I'm done." The thought of the Weasley's groping for diamonds wasn't very mouth-watering anyway.

As one house elf appeared to take their dishes, Draco summoned the books from his bag. When he flipped the mugglestudies book open, the letter his mother had sent him yesterday fell onto his lap. He didn't feel like reading it again, but he knew he had to write her an answer before she got worried, and she was easily worried, his mother.

He shot a quick glance to his side to make sure that Potter wasn't peeking over his shoulder before he bent over the parchment slightly and started writing what he hoped was a comforting reply.

_Mother, _

_I'm fine, not a scratch except for the fact that Potter's hand is attached to my wrist. I'm managing, I promise. It's not that bad, honestly. We're behaving better now; one might even say we're civil towards each other. You don't have to worry, and tell father that I appreciate his search for a way to get me out of this. _

_Today we will do our homework, as good students. Don't worry about me, mother. I can take care of myself. _

_Draco_

Lies. Like he and Potter hadn't fought, or been impolite? But his mother didn't need to read that. Of course she already knew all about it, since Dumbledore made sure to inform every parent about their kids misbehavior on school grounds, but his mother didn't want the truth now, she needed reassurance. And, honestly, Potter and he _were_ actually behaving civil for the moment.

"What are you writing?" Potter interrupted his trailing thoughts. Draco wondered if that was a bad habit Potter had, interrupting people thinking.

"A letter. To my mother." Draco shrugged and folded the piece of parchment to make sure that Potter wouldn't read the words, the lies, he had just written.

"Oh right, she sent you one yesterday." Potter nodded to himself, as if he confirmed a thought he had and let his gaze return to his books. "Telling her all about my bad behavior?"

"Telling her about your bad B.O.", Draco snapped before he could stop himself and instantly regretted his reply. He was certain that Potter would freak again, like he always did, but Golden Boy only smirked slightly and didn't even look up.

"'Potter smells like old socks, please wash him for me'?"

Draco thought of saying something about smelling like Hagrid's unwashed underwear, but resisted the urge before it was too late. Instead he answered Potter's first question.

"I was telling her that I'm fine, if you must know", he said coolly and stuffed the letter under his books and parchments to make sure that Potter didn't read it by mistake.

Potter shrugged as if he wanted to confirm that he had heard, but didn't care, and Draco got an instant feeling of revealing too much about himself. He felt sort of stupid for actually thinking subconsciously that Potter would care about what he _actually_ wrote to his mother.

"You never get any letters", he stated childishly.

"No", Potter agreed and shrugged.

"Why?"

"Who would send them?" Potter looked up from his books and met Draco's gaze. Draco promised himself never to look into Potter's eyes again, because it made him feel strange; pity, rage and an odd, nauseating feeling at the same time.

"How would I know?" He blurted out in a pathetic attempt to defend his questions. "The people you live with, the muggles?"

Potter gave him a weird look, before he turned to his books again without a word.

Draco wasn't sure if he was supposed to say something comforting to make it alright again. Honestly, he had never really cared that way for his friends, and he didn't now either, _of course_, but he was stuck with Potter, and a pouting Potter wasn't the Potter he preferred.

He chose to ignore the fact that Golden Boy was barely breathing in his chair and that stupid words had escaped his own mouth again. It was like he always forgot that Potter was Poor Orphan Potter Who Saved The World, but Draco had never thought that getting a letter was such a big deal for him.

"Actually", he said quietly. "They're mostly annoying."

"Who?"

"Letters."

Potter snorted loudly and gave Draco an unimpressed look.

"You know, Malfoy, people like you are just not created for apologies."

Draco actually found himself smirking at Potter's words, as if he would ever find Potter funny in any way that wasn't degrading. He quickly wiped the up-turned corners of his mouth off his face and put on his well-practiced poker face.

He felt Potter's eyes on him, and when he shot a quick look sideways, he found Potter smirking slightly too, but he seemed unaware of the fact. Draco let his gaze wander out the window again, having an odd feeling lurking around his stomach. Were they actually getting along? Had they just smirked at the same joke? It had to be a once in a lifetime experience.

"Hey, Malfoy?" Potter's voice interrupted him again and brought him back to reality once more. "Hufflepuff has quidditch practice this evening, wanna go?"

"They suck", Draco stated and snorted loudly.

"I know, that's why I'd like to watch them." Potter shrugged like it was the most natural thing in the world, wanting to watch Hufflepuff's quidditch practice because they sucked. Not a very noble Gryffindor after all.

"Yeah, why not", Draco said after hesitating a few moments. It was something to do, at least, and maybe it could motivate him to complete his homework faster. For a second, he was sure that he saw Potter smile slightly, but the moment he took a closer look, it had disappeared.

In a desperate attempt to shut all the annoying thoughts out of his head, he returned to his mugglestudies book. It was the thickest, most boring book he had ever read in his life. He had never found muggles interesting at all with their lack of magic, and their pathetic attempts to live without it were not in his interest. There were the crosswords again, only partly filled in and he wasn't sure that the parts he _had_ finished were correct either. He started to read all the leads once again with a deep, mental sigh. Why had he decided to take this subject at all? Even Hagrid's classes were more interesting. But his father had told him that it was an important subject for ministry employees, and he planned to be one of those within a not very far future.

To his relief he found that he actually knew a few words that he hadn't yet written down, but then he was stuck again. As he glanced sideways he found that Potter looked as bored and confused as Draco felt at the moment. Did Potter really have such a hard time with Charms? Really?

"That one's supposed to be toaster, I believe", Potter said and interrupted Draco's thought again as he leaned slightly over the table and pointed at number thirteen vertically. "And since that is toaster, this one's Oprah." Potter pointed at number six.

Draco didn't even bother to claim that he already knew that, because he didn't and it was probably just as obvious to Potter as it was to him that Potter had no clue about what Flitwick was trying to teach them. But he didn't say thank you either. He hadn't asked for help, even though he needed it. Instead, he started to write down what Potter just had told him and felt pleased with himself when he noticed that the words he had found out by himself seemed to be correct, as they fitted in with Oprah and Toaster.

A few words later (they were easy, since Potter's help had almost completed them with the exception for a couple of letters) he was stuck again. Somewhere deep inside, a place he desperately ignored existed, he hoped that Potter would point out a couple of more words, but Golen Boy didn't seem to have any time for that. He was sitting bent over his books, waving his wand slightly, as if he tried to mimic the wand movement-instructions. Curiously Draco tried to peek at the notes and instructions to find out what spell Potter was trying to master. A pleased smirk spread over his face when he recognized the instructions to the tribily-charm Flitwick had taught them about the last two classes. It was pretty easy and Draco had gotten the hang of it fifteen minutes into class, but Potter seemed to have gotten it all backwards.

It felt like hours flew by, and they did, as he fought with the crosswords and trying to find the right words in his books. Lunch left him dozy and he forced himself to understand any of the words in the book in front of him. He hated not understanding, not being sure he got it right. It made him feel helpless and somewhat stupid.

When a few sparkles flew dangerously close to his hair, Draco reacted.

"Hey Potter, have you even read the instructions? You're supposed to circle your wand counterclockwise, not clockwise."

Potter stared at him for a few seconds, looking more confused than annoyed over Draco correcting him, and started to slowly move his wand the other way. Five minutes later a couple of turtles were crawling over the floor. Awfully small and unimpressive turtles, not like Draco's silver and ruby ones, but turtles all the same. Potter seemed pleased as he watched them slowly making their way from the table into the fire where they disappeared with a small _poof_.

Draco returned to his crosswords again and felt an odd satisfaction. It only had to do with him avoiding more of Potter's sparks and risks of having his hair on fire, of course.

"That one's computer, and twenty is supposed to be Holmes."

He looked up, only to find that Potter had stuffed away his books and was pointing at Draco's crosswords again.

"Sherlock Holmes?" Draco said in disbelief. "That's a name?"

"Says a person named Draco", Potter scoffed and put his wand on the pile of books he had just created on the nearest chair.

"There's nothing wrong with my name, Potter. It's perfectly normal." Draco glared at the smug face on the other side of the table and turned his gaze back to the crossword. He quickly wrote down the words that Potter just had given him and felt satisfied with himself when he realized that the crossword was complete.

"Yeah, like all other names in the wizarding world. Didn't they bug you about your name when you went to school?"

"I _am_ in school and no one bugs me."

"I meant before Hogwarts, where you learned to read and some math, you know."

"I was homeschooled. Do you really believe that I ever would integrate with muggles?" Draco snorted and felt slightly offended of such an accusation. How could anyone ever believe that he had ever sat his foot in a school for _muggles_?

"Well I don't know, do I? I grew up among them. I just assumed that you guys had to go to a muggle school to learn all the basic stuff." Potter shrugged and seemed almost apologetic.

"Maybe the poor people like Weasley, but I was tutored by a house elf." It was interesting how little Potter actually knew about the world he had saved, about the basic stuff, the everyday life. He had just assumed that everyone knew from the beginning, especially Potter. But it surprised him how much of Draco's world that was unfamiliar to Golden Boy.

Potter didn't answer, probably because Draco had just insulted the Weasley's once again. As Potter stared out the window, Draco started to collect his parchments, books and quills before he turned to Golden Boy.

"Shall we go?"

"Go where?" Potter looked up at him and seemed confused again. Maybe he had forgotten all about Hufflepuffs Quidditch practice.

"The practice starts in a few minutes. You wanted to go, right?"

"Right." Potter got up from his chair, leaving the books where they were and waited for Draco to get to his feet.

They were quiet as they walked through the almost empty castle. The few students who weren't studying were either in a meeting with some club or making out in some empty corridor.

Draco got the feeling that Potter preferred silence when he was heading somewhere. He rarely spoke when he was moving at all. The most believable possibility was that Potter's ability to do more than one thing at the same time was non-existing, and Draco had seen proof of that theory before.

It was darkening outside when they walked the school grounds, heading for the Quidditch court. It had started to rain slightly again and the grass was slippry under their feet. Potter slowed their pace down, probably to make sure they didn't fall over if the wet ground would cause them to slip.

The Hufflepuff team was already practicing their attacks and it looked worse than ever, like seven Longbottoms on brooms. Draco wondered why they even were allowed to _have _a team since they obviously had trouble not falling off their brooms.

A few other students were watching from the stand, looking bored to death already. Why they'd come to watch such a lousy practice, Draco couldn't understand, but he was sure that it wasn't for the same reason as Potter's and his. They could actually spend the evening with their friends, play a few rounds of chess or simply anything more fun than having to spend the evening with their nemesis.

"Let's get as far away from them as possible." Potter tugged his hand and Draco followed him to the seats farthest away from the others. He was thankful though, because feeling like an attraction on some freakshow wasn't what he wanted right now.

As the rain started to get heavier and Draco flicked his wand to prevent the water from getting under his clothes. As long as it didn't wet him, he didn't mind the rain. It was sort of soothing and seemed to clear the air. It was always easier to breathe the morning after a night's rain.

"I wish we could have Cedric back." A voice from one of the girls a few rows below them travelled through the raindrops and broke the silence between them.

Draco felt Potter go rigid beside him and for a few seconds he thought of asking if Potter was in love with that Hufflepuff hero, or if it felt like he was a threat to his title as the wizarding world's saviour. But then he remembered that Cedric died during the Triwizard tournament, and that Potter had been there to watch it all happen. How could he have forgotten that? It was one of the biggest things that had ever happened to the school, and after that Potter had been labeled as completely mental for almost a year. It had been the best year, but obviously not to Potter, who seemed to be frozen solid in his seat.

"Hey Potter, you know that Smith-guy, right?" He only diverted Potter's attention to minimize the risk of having Golden Boy breaking down on him. He didn't care about what Potter felt, but if he couldn't run away from feelings overflowing next to him, he was going to do everything he could to prevent it from happening.

"Sort of. He was in a club we started fifth year…well, you know about that." Potter shrugged but didn't take his eyes of the Quidditch-players on the field. "Not too fond of him."

"Why did you even start that fanclub of yours?" Draco smirked slightly. It was the best evidence he had to prove that Potter felt too good about himself.

"I didn't start it. I believe that was Hermione. It was all Umbridge's fault. Did anyone like her at all?" Draco noticed how Potter rubbed the back of his hand slightly, spoke in short almost incoherent phrases and seemed to grimace from some memory.

"I did", Draco confessed and was surprised to see that Potter's corners of his mouth turned slightly upwards.

"Of course you did."

"Yeah. She liked me and hated you." Draco shrugged and realized that it was sort of nice to be able to be completely honest to Potter about his hate for him.

"She sure did."

"It can't get any better than that."

The rain started to increase and Draco suddenly realized that Potter hadn't used a charm to keep it on a distance. For a second he wondered if Potter really had such little talent in the subject that he wasn't able to perform an easy charm to keep his clothes dry, but not even Potter could be that thick.

"Do you like getting wet?" Two seconds after the words had left his mouth, Draco regretted them deeply. They sounded so wrong, so incredibly wrong. He almost vomited in his own mouth for letting such indications leave his lips.

"Excuse me?" Potter turned to him with an almost shocked, amused look on his face.

"Shut up Potter. Don't flatter yourself", Draco snarled defensively.

"Thank god, you're back. I was getting a little worried that someone had you under the imperius curse, with you being all almost civil to me."

"As I said, don't flatter yourself."Draco felt the humiliation of Potter winning verbally over him once again, but kept his temper under control. This was better than Filch any day.

Potter chuckled and turned to the game again, still letting the rain soak his clothes like a wet cloth.

_Please review!_


	8. Oh, she's fat

Hi guys! I'm so sorry for the delay of this chapter. I haven't had any time left for writing, so this last week I've been staying up really late and skipped some studying to get this chapter done. Hopefully there will be more time next week, and I've already started on the new chapter!

I hope you'll like this one. There's not very much happening except for…well you'll see! No major events or what so ever, but there will be more in the next chapter.

I just wanted to say thank you to ALL of you who reviewed and told me your opinions. I love you, guys! It is your reviews that keep me writing and gives me energy to stay awake to 3 a.m. to finish chapter after chapter.

I love reading your thoughts and speculations, so keep them coming!

I'm sorry once again for taking so long, and I will try to update faster next time. I promise.

* * *

**CHAPTER 8 – OH, SHE'S FAT**

There was something odd in the air that morning. Or maybe it was something odd in Draco's body. It felt like his body parts were tingling with a need to move, since he'd spent his entire time sitting, sleeping and walking to class with Potter. He used to have the possibility to go out on his own and just be alone, breathe and walk around in the outskirtsof the forest for hours. But he couldn't now, and Potter seemed perfectly fine with the way they spent their time.

He stared up at the ceiling after lifting the silencing charm off of Potter, waiting for him to wake up. The body next to him was calm for once, but Draco had somehow adapted to the war next to him that raged every night and he rarely woke up anymore, with the exception of when Potter kicked him in his sleep. It was just the sounds Potter created that he couldn't stand and he was thankful for being able to silence them in a way that didn't have any side effects. Yet. He had been lucky enough to wake up before Potter did every morning and lift the charm before Golden Boy could notice what he had to put up with in his sleep.

He was more thankful towards magic than ever. If he hadn't been able to use those blocking charms to shield Potter and him from each other while doing necessary things in the bathroom – non-sexual things, one might add – he wouldn't have been able to cope with the situation. It was hard enough as it was, but if magic hadn't been able to save him from the most humiliating moments, he probably would've killed himself – or Potter.

Slowly Potter's breathing became shallower and a few minutes later his half-blind eyes opened next to Draco. They never said good morning and Potter never questioned why Draco always was awake when he woke up. It was just the way it was and they spent slow minutes in silence, before Potter reached for his glasses as a silent sign for Draco to get out of bed. It had started to become a routine of theirs, and Potter was always the one to break the silence between them every morning. Some days it took a minute for him to say something, other days they were halfway into the first class before a word was spoken between them.

"I smell really bad. We need to shower." Potter wrinkled his nose and frowned uncomfortably, shooting a side glance at Draco who felt a sting of panic spread inside his body.

He didn't feel like showering. They had avoided the awkward situation for as long as they could, but he knew Potter was right. His own hair was lying like slick worms across his forehead and yes, he smelled bad too.

"Yeah", Draco stated and nodded courtly. He was somehow depressingly happy with knowing that the situation was as awkward for Potter as for him. Neither of them liked being naked with the other, and neither of them liked any of this. But they coped.

As they walked over the bathroom floor's tiles on bare feet in their pajamas, Draco felt the panic subside slowly. Had he gotten used to this? To do all his private stuff in the company of Potter? The thought made him feel nauseous and he swayed a little on his feet as he disconnected from reality for a few seconds.

Potter's pointed gaze and moving lips made him return hastily, slightly dizzy of confusion.

"What?" He said questioningly when he realized that Potter just had told him something.

"I said _turn around_." Golden Boy gave him an odd look and Draco didn't realize why, until he noticed that Potter was halfway in taking his underwear off.

_Shit_.

Draco turned around hastily, yanking Potter's arm as he threw his body around and caused Golden Boy to moan quietly out of pain. He swallowed hard, feeling like a peeping Tom without any reason, really. It hadn't been his intention to almost sneak a peek at Potter's private parts, but what if Golden Boy thought so? What if he now assumed that Draco had tried to watch him shower, _naked_. He swallowed again, feeling more nauseous than ever.

"Your turn." Potter's voice sounded just normal, as if the almost-incident hadn't happened. He hoped that Potter didn't care, that he realized that Draco had been lost in thought and not trying to catch a glimpse of Golden Boy's most golden parts.

Draco slowly moved around, carefully not to turn too hastily and find himself face to face with a wet and naked Potter.

It was a liberating sensation to feel clean again, as if all his worries washed away along with the shampoo and soap. As he opened his eyes after washing the last shampoo out of his hair, he felt the familiar sensation in the back of his head, from someone looking at him. He quickly shot a glance over his shoulder and almost stumbled over his own feet (standing completely still, one might add) when he caught Potter's eyes.

"Potter!" He shouted, not knowing how to react or feel. It wasn't like he could run away and if he turned around he would just put himself in an even more embarrassing situation.

"I was just checking to see if you were finished. Stop getting so upset, I wasn't secretly peeking like you, Malfoy." Potter snorted and Draco wanted to _avada kedavra _himself on the spot when he felt the warm, traitorous blush creep across his cheeks.

"I was _not_ peeking. _Why_ would I peek?" And he wanted to kill himself even more, when his voice came out all high-pitchy and guilty.

"Well, I don't know, but you stood there staring for quite the while."

"I was not!"

"Yeah you were. I had to pull my underwear up again before you turned away." There was something odd with Potter's voice. As if he was trying not to laugh, while Draco was trying not to puke. He had lost all his words. Had Potter really been naked for a while and Draco hadn't even realized it? Not that he wanted to see Potter naked, for Melin's sake, but that Potter had caught him standing there staring at his…_privates_, like Creepy Creevey would have.

Draco dressed quickly, just to get out of that room, but Potter took his time which caused Draco to stand there, staring blankly into a wall with his thoughts raging around in his head. He felt so uncomfortable and upset with himself. How could he have put himself in a situation like this where Potter thought that Draco had tried to sneak a peek of him?

"Yeah, I'm done", Potter said after way too many seconds and Draco walked ahead of him out in their common room in silence. He didn't even dare to look at Golden Boy in fear of confessing something that wasn't even true. Potter's calm and eager to laugh at the situation made him uncomfortable. It was hard to yell at someone who just laughed at a situation where he'd just been butt naked in front of his school enemy only minutes ago.

Draco forced himself to stare into a book for forty-seven minutes, without turning the page, in hope of making the embarrassing situation disappear.

"Hey Malfoy." Potter's voice almost made him look up, but Draco wasn't that easily fooled anymore. Meeting that gaze would make him even more uncomfortable, so he wouldn't. He just nodded and buried his nose further into the book.

"I know that you didn't look. I was just kidding. It was kind of obvious that you were lost in thought. No need to panic." Potter's voice was all calm again and Draco looked up despite his better judgment. _Potter was kidding?_ He identified the anger as that special sort, only created by Potter, as it boiled up inside him.

There was a little smile on Potter's lips that quickly disappeared when he noticed Draco's fury.

"You were _kidding_?" he yelled. Yes, now was the right time to scream.

"Yeah. I thought it was funny." Potter shrugged and didn't seem to care very much about Draco almost exploding out of anger in front of him.

"You thought it was _funny?_" Draco repeated, not knowing if those stupid words actually were correct.

"Yeah. Guess it wasn't." Potter shrugged again turned to his own book.

"Yeah, guess it wasn't, Potter", Draco confirmed and slammed his book back on the table.

Potter jumped a little, to Draco's satisfaction and then he looked up, which caused Draco to do the mistake and meet his gaze.

"Sorry."

The sudden anger hastily subsided, his body slowly calming down with each ragged, angry breath. There was that feeling again. Guilt, and some nausea, as if he'd done something incredibly wrong to Potter, yelling at him like that. For a few, short seconds, he was sure that this was one of Potter's sarcastic apologies, but then he realized that Potter never had apologized to him before. Ever.

"Whatever. I broke your nose last year. Let's call it even." Draco shrugged and looked away quickly when Potter broke their eye contact for a brief moment. He wasn't going to make that mistake again.

He noticed out of the corner of his eye how Potter winced and rubbed his nose slightly, probably remembering Draco stepping on it. Yeah, Draco remembered that too. It had been one of the most satisfying moments of his life. No comments from Potter's smart mouth, no unexpected spells or curses that he hadn't been prepared for. Just Potter lying there helpless and rigid, with his body locked. It just wasn't as satisfying thinking of it anymore. There were so much about Potter that he hadn't known or even thought could exist. Not that he liked or cared for Potter in any way, Draco assured himself, but the crystal clear picture he'd had of Potter for years didn't seem to be very accurate.

"Why did you do it?" Potter's voice broke through the silence and Draco's thoughts as effectively as always.

"Do what?" But Draco knew what Potter was referring to.

"Step on my nose."

He glanced sideways at Potter, careful not to meet his gaze.

"Because I could", he answered quietly and shrugged slightly. "Because it was you. Because you eavesdropped on me."

"Yeah, I guess."

There was something in Potter's voice that made him turn to look at Golden Boy more directly. There wasn't blame in his voice, but some sort of understanding.

Potter didn't look at him, keeping his eyes locked to the book in front of him, obviously not reading. And for the first time since forever, when it came to Potter, Draco didn't know what to say or if he was supposed to say anything at all. It felt as if he'd missed an important piece of conversation that led to this moment, and now found himself in a situation which he had no idea how he'd gotten himself in to.

"I would have done the same thing to you", Potter said suddenly, turning his gaze to stare intently out of the window.

"I know", Draco answered, shrugging again.

"Especially last year", Potter added with a whisper that Draco wasn't sure he was supposed to have heard, or if Potter even was aware of that he was talking out loud.

He felt sort of frightened. For real. Potter scared him for the first time ever. This wasn't how Potter was supposed to behave. This wasn't what Draco expected of him. It was confusing and terrifying. He had sort of known Potter since they were eleven, and had always been able to predict what Potter was going to say or do, but not now.

"But we're not even, Malfoy. Since you've tried to get me expelled more times than I can count, like first year, when we were supposed to duel."

Draco smirked, pleased with himself.

"Yeah, that was fun."

Potter only snorted as an answer and looked the other way, but Draco had a feeling that he wasn't angry.

As he returned to his book, he felt slightly better. Potter was alright and they could survive three months, right? It couldn't be that hard, could it? There was a slight feeling of panic lingering in the pit of his stomach, but he tried to ignore it, tried to focus on whatever there was to focus on except for the situation.

There were a few chapters he had to read before next class and he saw Potter open a book of his own, out of the corner of his eye. Mugglestudies had always bored him tremendously so the thought of wading through a couple of hundred pages of descriptions and explanations of a world he couldn't care less about, didn't exactly make him jump out of joy.

"How's your crosswords going?" Potter broke the silence a couple of hours later, when he had dropped the book to the table with a low thud.

"Awesome", Draco answered, not being able to hide his sarcasm. "How's your charms?"

"Equally awesome", Potter said with a smirk, obviously not buying the answer. "I hate studying with you. I never get anything done. You distract me."

Draco didn't like the accusing tone in Potter's voice. As if Golden Boy didn't distract him as well. It wasn't easy to concentrate when you had another person's hand dangling off your wrist.

He chose not to answer though, trying to keep the insults from popping out of his mouth. Potter started writing something on a piece of parchment and Draco eyed him curiously. Famous Potter sat beside him, struggling with his left-hand writing and looked quite defeated. A few minutes later, he gave up, throwing the quill aside.

There wasn't very much patience there, Draco stated to himself and hastily turned his gaze to the window as Potter looked up at him

A light rain had started to fall outside and Draco watched the few students that had chosen to spend their Saturday outside pack up their things and hastily return inside. He wished that he could be out there on his own and escape from everything for a while. But that was impossible now, the situation being what it was.

He sort of liked their common room, though. Potter rarely said much, so Draco felt quite relaxed spending the evenings in the dark green armchair, staring into the fireplace with his left hand dangling outside the velvet armrest, weighed down by Potter's, when the sun set behind the forbidden forest. It was almost like home.

"Hey." Potter's voice found him and dragged him out of his own thoughts. Draco blinked slightly confused a couple of times, before he wrinkled his nose to let Potter know that he was listening.

"You know…you said that I could bring Hermione and Ron here, since we had lunch with…_your friends_." Potter cleared his throat and seemed embarrassed over something. Draco turned his head to watch him curiously. "I mean, I would really like to see them. They're my friends and I…" Potter shrugged and flipped the pages in the book in front of him.

_Oh yes_. Draco knew he had made a promise that Golden Boy could see his friends. Weasel and Beaver. But Draco didn't want to see them, since the dislike between him and Potter's friends was completely mutual. On the other hand, Potter wasn't very fond of Blaise or Pansy either, but he had spent lunch with them anyway, because Draco had wanted to.

"You miss them?" Draco suggested generously.

"Yeah." Potter continued his pageflipping and didn't look up, obviously uncomfortable with all that frantic lip-chewing and nervous blinking behind his hideous glasses he had going on.

"Okay", Draco heard himself say before he could stop the words from escaping his mouth. "Forty-five minutes, Potter."

"Really?" Golden Boy looked up, staring at Draco with those eyes. They always made him so uncomfortable, nauseous and insecure.

"Do you want me to change my mind? Because I gladly would, right now."

"No, no!" Potter scrambled to his feet, accidentally yanking Draco's arm in his rush to get up from the chair.

"If you don't stop trying to rip my arm from my body, I _will_ change my mind", Draco snarled and rubbed his aching shoulder with his free hand. He slowly stood up and gave Potter one of his most accusing glares.

"Sorry", Golden Boy said guiltily and pulled his fingers through that dreadful hair of his. "I was just so surprised. I thought I would have to convince you, you know, had a whole speech going and everything."

Draco snorted.

"Glad I didn't have to put up with that", he answered dryly. "It's painful enough being _glued_ to you and…"

"Yeah yeah, point made", Potter cut him off irritably and turned on the spot. "Let's go. We should go get them."

"Where from?" Draco asked, confused over Golden Boy's sudden mood change.

"The Gryffindor tower, where else?" Potter raised his eyebrows in a look that clearly questioned Draco's intelligence, before he led the way through the school.

"Well I wouldn't know, since I don't know where you usually hang around with your group of fans", Draco snapped and regretted ever agreeing to let Potter meet Weasel and Beaver.

"I don't have _fans_", Potter spat and Draco looked up in shock. What was wrong with Golden Boy? He obviously pretended that he didn't like all eyes on him when they walked around in school corridors, but was he actually trying to fool Draco into thinking that he didn't like having fans either? As if Draco had ever been that stupid.

"Yeah right. Creepy Creevey is just another really nice friend that likes to take pictures of you doing…well _anything_."

Potter seemed to shudder slightly when Draco mentioned Creepy Creevey, as if the name alone made him feel creeped out.

_Yes, well__, he's called Creepy Creevey for a reason, right?_

"He's not one of my favorites", Potter answered stiffly.

"What? Has he taken pictures of you taking a dump or something?" Draco wouldn't be surprised.

"What? No, _no_!" Potter stared at him in terror. As if he, too, wasn't completely sure that a picture like that couldn't have been taken.

Draco fought the urge to laugh, but failed miserably as Potter's eyes continued to stare at him as if he wanted some sort of reassurance.

The thought of Creevey, that skinny little toothpick of a human, crawling around on the bathroom floor, trying his best to get a good angle of Potter underneath the walls of the toilet booth was so scarily believable and Draco had to stop in the middle of an empty corridor to not risk tripping over his own feet in heedless laughter.

"It's not funny!" Potter squeaked in a high-pitched voice, obviously panicking over Draco's odd reaction and the thought of circulating pictures of himself on the toilet.

Draco desperately tried to sober up, sensing tears of laughter prickle in the corner of his eyes and feeling quite a bit embarrassed for losing his face like that in front of Potter. He straightened himself and bit his lip hard when he saw Potter's pained face.

"It's a little funny", he said with his voice strangled from suppressed laughter as Golden Boy glared accusingly at him.

As he took a few deep breaths to contain himself again, he could see the corners of Potter's mouth twitch a little.

Golden Boy didn't say anything until Draco had calmed down and wiped the tears from his eyes, just stood there watching and waiting patiently.

"Let's go", he finally said when Draco had brushed invisible dust off of his clothes just to set his mind on something else than Creepy Creevey, crawling around on the floor.

Draco followed Potter through the corridors, avoiding the stares they received from every person they met on the way without exception. He had rarely been to this part of the school, since he hadn't had any business here. A few times in his earlier years he had sneaked behind a couple of Gryffindors to find out where their common room was, but they had always caught him and he'd never been able to find out where it was. As he got older he had realized that he didn't care where the Gryffindors slept and had rarely set his foot in those parts of the castle again.

"I don't think she'll let you in", Potter said suddenly as they walked up another staircase. "Watch that step. It's fake." He effectively stopped Draco by placing their linked hands on his chest, just before he was going to put his foot down on a step that Potter had skipped.

Draco nudged the fake step with the tip of his toe, and it disappeared beneath his sole. He snorted irritably and hastily strode passed it.

"Bloody stairs", he muttered and cursed under his breath, thankful for Potter's warning since getting stuck didn't feel very tempting at the moment.

"Yeah, I know." Potter shook his head as if he felt the same distaste against the fake steps as Draco did.

"Who won't let me in, by the way?" Draco asked curiously as they started walking again. Was he talking about Beaver? Wouldn't the mudblood let him in?

"The fat lady", Potter said simply and Draco blinked at him.

"The what?"

"The fat lady. The painting of the fat lady. The entrance to the Gryffindor tower is behind her."

It felt like Potter was sharing secrets and Draco found himself more interested than he was comfortable with being when it came to Potter stuff that was related to him.

"She's fat?"

"Yeah, that's why she's called the fat lady." Potter shrugged slightly, as if he hadn't reflected over the fact that the fat lady was indeed fat.

They turned a corner and Draco saw a gigantic painting of a gigantic lady in a pink dress at the end of the corridor ahead of them.

"Oh, she's _fat_", he stated and stared at the painting. Well, Potter's friends were behind that painting and Draco would have to put up with them now, for forty-five minutes. _How great._

**A/N:**

So Draco and Harry are getting along a little better, who would have thought? What was your favorite part of this chapter? And what do you think will happen in the next one? Dying to know!

_Please review!_


	9. My name is Harry

**A/N: Yaaay, another chapter! This feels awesome. A faster update this time! I'm so proud over myself, lol. Anyway, I kind of like this chapter, because there are a few important things happening for our boys here. **

**I really need to thank you all for your awesome reviews on the last chapter. You're the best readers one could ever ask for and I'm so happy that so many of you let me know what you think about the story and my writing. It really means a lot to me, so I just hope you guys keep them coming! I try to answer all of them, but some of you have disabled PMs, so I couldn't. If you didn't get an answer (and wanted one) enable those PMs!**

**I hope you guys enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. It was a lot of fun, actually, but hard of course as I try to keep them in character. **

**And if you STILL haven't checked it out you should go read My sweet prince by herr sten. She's an awesome writer and the story is just…I have no words. Go read. You're missing out if you don't! **

**Another supermegahuge thanks to my beloved beta Jerry, or Lotten as she has decided to call herself here on fanfiction (she's an awesome writer too, so go check her out). Without you this wouldn't be possible! **

**Love you guys!**

* * *

**CHAPTER 9 - MY NAME IS HARRY**

Potter seemed a little anxious as they stepped in front of the very fat Fat Lady. Draco had no idea why, since Golden Boy's friends probably were more than eager to spend some time with him. But then again, Potter always seemed to surprise him these days.

"Password", demanded the Fat Lady and tried to smooth the wrinkles on her dress with her heavy hand. She showed little interest in them and focused more on the laces attached to her sleeves than on the odd pair of boys in front of her. Draco was still too fascinated by the sheer magnitude of her body to get irritated with the lack of attention.

Potter shifted his weight from leg to leg beside him and the obvious nervousness caught Draco's attention. What was wrong with him now?

"Well…I don't know if you've changed it since last time I was here, but it used to be _homo economicus_ back then." Potter looked hopeful and the Fat Lady finally turned her attention to them. She eyed them carefully and didn't look very pleased with what she saw as her frown deepened for every nervous breath they took.

"I remember you very well, Mr Potter. And I certainly know that _you_ don't belong here." She pointed one of her chubby fingers towards Draco who couldn't help but feeling a bit offended. "I cannot let you in, but as I've been informed about your situation I assume that you would like to have a word with Mr Weasley and Miss Granger?" Even though she put it as a question, she was already gone when Potter let out a lame "Yes" as an answer.

"Where did she go?" Draco found himself whispering without knowing why.

"I don't know. Probably visiting another painting inside the common room to get hold of Ron and Hermione."

"Could she possibly _fit_ in another painting?" Draco snorted and could imagined the Fat Lady trying to squeeze her overly large body parts into a smaller frame somewhere inside.

Potter didn't have the chance to reply as the portrait swung open in front of them, causing Draco to shove him aside in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the Gyffindor common room. Out from the circular hole in the wall climbed Weasel and Beaver, looking confused and a little stressed, as if they weren't sure whether to believe the Fat Lady or not. When their eyes discovered Potter standing there, seeming all nervous – though Draco still didn't understanding why – they tripped over each other to get out of the tunnel-shaped passage as fast as they could.

"Harry!" Beaver squeaked and threw herself over Golden Boy, who patted her back pathetically with his free hand while glancing slightly embarrassed towards Draco. Weasel only stood there a few feet away, looking grumpy.

"Hermione, let me go." Potter's strangled voice came from somewhere in that bushy hair of Beaver's and she finally let him out of her grip.

"I've been so worried about you!" she said and Draco couldn't resist rolling his eyes on her when she brushed a few tears off her cheeks. Seriously, what could have happened? They were still inside the school and did she really think that Draco would kill Potter before they were separated? It would only cause him more trouble dragging a smelling body with him everywhere he went.

"_Why_? It's not like I risked getting killed or anything." Potter shrugged and Draco found himself feeling slightly pleased with that statement.

"Well it's Malfoy, Harry", Weasel said as if Draco wasn't standing right there in front of him. "He's a bloody nutter and we've seen proof of what he can do before. Remember when he let the Death Eaters into school? Or tried to poison Dumbledore. And _that necklace, Harry!_"

"Yeah, remember when _Harry_ almost killed me when he cut me open in the bathroom?" Draco hissed, trying to hide his humiliation with his seething anger. How dared Weasley pretend as if he wasn't standing there, when he had obviously agreed to let Potter meet them against his better judgment?

Potter flinched beside him as if he'd just got slapped and Weasel turned awfully quiet, looking stiffly at Golden Boy as if he tried his best to pretend Draco wasn't there.

"I don't understand how you can sleep at all, Harry", Weasel continued and tried to pretend as if he hadn't heard Draco's input. Beaver looked a little pale from under her bushy hair as she glanced nervously towards him.

"Maybe I'm the one who should be scared, _Weasel_. Maybe I'm the one who should be afraid of getting cut open once more without a professor there to help me. Why should your precious _Harry_ be afraid? He killed the Dark Lord, after all. He shouldn't be afraid of anything. Oh well, maybe of you, Weasel. Who knows, one day you just might steal his vault key once you've realized that his fame will never rub off on you. We all know _why_ you're friends with him, you poor filthy…"

_BANG. _

And then Draco had to shut up, because Weasel's fist hit him hard in the face. For a second or two he saw stars dancing around his head as he wobbled slightly on his feet. He could hear Beaver scream something that sounded like _Ron, stop it_, but he wasn't sure since a strange ringing in his ears made it difficult for him to hear.

Someone steadied him with a tight grip around his upper arm and the stars faded away slowly. There was a faint taste of iron in his mouth and ha realized that his bottom lip was bleeding slightly. As he glanced sideways he saw Potter standing there, still holding his arm tightly as if to make sure that he wouldn't fall over once he let go. In all his dizziness Draco was sort of grateful, really.

Then he searched for his attacker and found Weasel standing opposite of him, with Beaver clinging desperately to his sleeve. The freckled face had caught up to the hair's disgusting orange reddish color and he looked furious. And completely silly, breathing heavily like troll.

Draco pushed Potter away when he felt like his feet were steady enough for standing on and brushed the blood off his lip with the back of his hand. Had Weasel just hit him the face? Wasn't it enough that he had to put up with Potter's bloody fists?

"Are you trying to mangle my face to make me look more like you, Weasel?" he drawled and straightened up to his full height. Potter nudged his hand, trying to tell him to stop, of course. But why? So that Weasel could have his fun throwing insults at him for the remaining parts of the hour?

"I'll show you _mangle_", Weasel shouted and his right fist almost made the stars sing and dance around Draco's head again.

"Ron _stop it!_" Beaver screamed in a very girlish way and Potter's hand found his upper arm again, only Draco didn't need it this time.

"Ron, just stop!" Potter shouted when Weasel aimed for Draco again and Potter had managed to push him out of the way. He placed himself in front of Draco, as if he was willing to act a human shield for him.

"He's _insulting_ me, and you tell _me_ to stop?" Weasel shouted in disbelief. He stared at Potter in such shock that he forgot to try and smack Draco to the floor. He still breathed really heavy though, as if he'd run around the Quidditch court fifteen times in high speed.

"It's _Malfoy_", Beaver said as if it explained everything. "He's _always_ like this. If you try to hit him you might hurt Harry too."

"Why are you defending him?" Weasel looked almost hurt, staring at Potter demanding an answer.

"I'm not, Ron." Potter shook his head bewildered and avoided Weasel's gaze.

"You're supposed to be my friend! What has he done to you? Did he put the imperius curse on you, Harry? Why didn't _you_ hit him when he insulted me and my family?"

Draco wasn't sure what he was witnessing, but it seemed to be a lot of grudge buried under Potter's and Weasel's friendship. He'd always thought they spent their days with hating on him and skipping side by side over rainbows. Again, when it came to Potter, he was so obviously wrong.

"I'm sorry Ron, but I'm stuck with him. I-I have to do the best of the situation." Potter looked defeated, his shoulders drooping, and still he avoided looking directly at Weasel.

"I can't believe you'd take his side before mine", Weasel hissed and turned to walk back through the hole in the wall, since they hadn't closed the portrait behind them. "I can't believe you let him insult my family like that, Harry. You should've hit him."

"RON!" Beaver slapped her hands over her mouth again, just like in class, but Draco didn't feel like rolling his eyes again. Was Weasel breaking up the friendship with Potter? Really? And Potter looked as if he was about to die, or something.

"Come on, let's go." Potter turned and started to walk away hastily, causing Draco to almost fall on his back before he managed to turn around.

"But…" Draco started but Potter just shook his head.

"There's no use. Let's just go."

But Draco found himself turning around, slowing Potter down when he started to walk backwards, watching Weasel slowly turn away from them and how he shook his head in disbelief.

"He did, you know. Hit me, I mean. When I insulted your family in front of him", he heard himself shout as if he actually cared if he'd just ruined Potter's friendship with Weasel. Draco could see the red-haired pure blood-traitor stiffen and stare at them out of the corner of his eye as he turned around again, meeting Potter's wide eyes.

"What…" He started but Draco glared at him.

"Shut up."

"I just…"

"I said, shut _up_."

"Thank you."

"Next time you speak when I've told you to shut up I might just break your nose again."

He was surprised to find Potter smirking slightly at his words and looked away as fast as he could. He'd embarrassed himself enough for today and didn't need to see Potter smirk over it.

Potter still seemed low when they entered their common room and Draco couldn't help but feeling slightly guilty. A feeling he hadn't had for years with the exception of when his parents caught him doing something really stupid. He'd never thought that Potter could make him feel bad over his own behavior, though.

"Potter I…" he started, not knowing how to continue. He felt a little embarrassed too, ruining Potter's meeting with his friends for the second time. He blushed as his voice fell quiet from his own confusion.

"It's okay", Golden Boy answered and shrugged slightly.

"How can you be so certain that I was about to apologize?" Draco sneered, annoyed that Potter read him so easily.

"Well, I'm pretty sure your face wouldn't be quite that red if you were trying to insult me."

Draco looked up and made his usual mistake by meeting Potter's gaze. He hadn't really realized that Golden Boy's eyes were extremely green. Well, all the girls talked about it, but he'd always assumed that they were exaggerating. They hadn't been. Strangely extremely green. And he couldn't stop staring back into them as they sort of bored into his skull.

"Why did you defend me?" He breathed without breaking their eye contact. He felt like he couldn't, like it was impossible to look away.

"I don't know", Potter muttered from two feet away and looked down. Draco suddenly felt like he could breathe again. "Ron has a way of overreacting."

"I see what you mean", Draco answered dryly and snorted at the memory.

"Yeah, and you have a way of behaving like a douche."

"Excuse me!" Draco said and tried his best to look hurt.

"Oh please, you just tried to apologize for it a second ago."

"I still remember how to break your nose, Potter", Draco threatened.

"Yeah, I still remember that spell, Malfoy."

They both knew Potter just crossed a line. They had never even mentioned that incident until today, and now it had been brought up twice within thirty minutes. Draco felt his scars ache slightly as they tended to do every time he thought about how his skin had ripped open as if tens of invisible knifes had been tearing him up from inside. He winced slightly at the memory and felt Potter's intense gaze on his face.

"I'm really sorry about that", he whispered quietly. "I didn't know what the spell would do. I never thought it'd be that dark…"

Draco thought he felt Potter's hand squeeze harder around his wrist, but he wasn't sure.

"I mean…" Potter continued. "I'd never wanted to kill you, or even hurt you that bad. I thought the spell would send you hanging upside down in the air or slap you in the face ten times. But nothing like that. I'd never do anything like that on purpose."

A week ago Draco would've laughed Potter in his face and dismiss everything Golden Boy had said as pure lies. But this wasn't a week ago, and he couldn't laugh in Potter's face or even think for a second that he was lying. Something had changed and Draco didn't like it. It was like he was unable to control how his hate towards Potter subsided against his will. He didn't particularly like him, but there was something with him that made Draco constantly curious. There was more to him than he could've ever known if they hadn't been put in this situation. He didn't like that either, being curious for Harry Potter, of all people.

"I know", Draco said slowly after long breaths of silence.

"You do?" Potter blinked in surprise and looked intently at him.

"I guess." He wanted to avoid all of these questions. Potter had nothing to do with it really and he was uncomfortable enough with knowing that Potter must have seen his scars when they dressed and undressed every day.

"What you said about Ron, Malfoy…" Potter started and his voice was troubled again. "It wasn't very nice. He's always been in everyone else's shadow. I mean, first his brothers from the day he was born, and then since he started school he's been in mine."

"Poor thing", Draco said dryly and scoffed to himself.

"No, I'm serious. He's always been a good friend to me, even though it took years for anyone to notice him before they noticed me."

"Yeah, hard times." Draco nodded and snorted loudly. Poor Potter leaving his friends in his shadow like that.

"I'm actually glad I'm stuck here with you", Potter said and Draco choked on his own sarcasm before he turned coughing towards Potter, staring at him in disbelief.

"What?"

"Well…anyone else would have taken pictures of me in my sleep or sending owls to the ministry on a daily basis to make good money of this situation. I mean, who wouldn't? You're the only one that hates me enough not to do anything like that and only my closest friends wouldn't because they like me too much. I can't say I'm happy with the situation, Malfoy, but it could've been worse. What if it was Colin Creevey and not you?"

"Then those bathroom pictures of you taking a dump would really exist." Draco tried to take Potter's words as an insult and not some sort of weird way of expressing his gratitude, but he didn't succeed very well. He knew what Potter meant, of course. Any other student in school would take advantage of the situation and probably leak a few photos of Potter naked or in more embarrassing situations, but Draco had been well raised and the thought hadn't even crossed his mind. "But thinking about it, I think I'll start writing a book about my three months with Harry bloody Potter tonight."

"My three months with Harry bloody Potter sounds like a selling title, I must admit", Potter said and Draco found that his own smirk was mirrored on Potter's face.

"It would be a top seller even if it was called Harry bloody Potter and his dirty socks."

"It's sad but true", Potter admitted and smiled slightly.

"Who buys all those books about you anyways? There can't be much of interest in them, can there?" He suddenly realized that he was talking negative about Harry Potter, _with _Harry Potter.

"I have no idea, and no, there can't be very much worth reading since there's nothing really interesting about me. I'm famous for something I don't even remember."

"And for killing the Dark Lord a few months ago", Draco added generously.

"I barely remember that either", Potter muttered and his good mood was suddenly gone.

Draco watched him putting his glasses on the table, pulling his fingers through that awful hair before pinching the bridge of his nose slightly. He was so weird and erratic. Draco never knew how Golden Boy was about to react or say. He seemed so troubled now, sitting slightly hunched over the table with closed eyes and fingers digging into his hair again. He wasn't sure why Golden Boy was so upset about someone telling him that he had defeated the darkest wizard of all time, _twice_.

"I can write your essay", Draco heard himself say, remembering Potter scribbling earlier, causing both of them to gape slightly in shock for a few seconds.

"What?" Potter hadn't put his glasses back on and turned his somewhat unfocused gaze towards Draco who wasn't sure what to say since his mouth seemed to speak without permission these days.

"Well…your handwriting…it's awful really. And I sort of owe you, I guess." He tried to make it sound nonchalant, but wasn't sure if he completely succeeded.

"Yeah, that would be nice, actually. Then Flitwick might in fact be able to read it. Thanks." He smiled and Draco didn't know where to look anymore.

"Yeah, whatever", he blurted out and summoned Potter's parchments from the chair beside the table. He just needed to focus on something else for a while to stop all those confusing thoughts that bounced around inside his head. Re-writing Potter's essay would take his mind off of things.

Potter constantly peeked over his shoulder as he wrote and it made him feel a little nervous. He did his best though, having Potter's hand dangling off his wrist made it a little more difficult to write with his usual neat script.

"I didn't know you were left-handed", Potter said suddenly, breaking the silence between them and deafened the sound of the quill scraping over the parchment's surface.

"Really? How weird, Potter, since you know so much about me when it comes to everything else", Draco said dryly and felt a little pleased when Potter laughed a little.

"Give me your crosswords", he demanded suddenly.

"Why?"

"I'll finish them for you", Potter offered and looked intently at him again. Draco started to feel uncomfortable for being the subject of it so often lately.

"That's cheating, Potter."

"Like that's ever stopped you before", Potter snorted and summoned the crosswords on his own when Draco seemed to be frozen in his seat.

He didn't say thank you, but he knew he should. Potter was being nice to him, and it didn't make him angry. He was nice to Potter too and that didn't make Potter angry either. He didn't even get angry over the fact that it didn't make him angry.

"Hey, Potter", he said stiffly and broke the silence again.

Potter looked up at him from the crosswords and Draco did the mistake of meeting his gaze again.

"Yeah?"

"I just…thanks." They fell silent again, but Draco couldn't look away.

"Harry." Potter broke the stillness between them so abruptly and unexpectedly.

"What?"

"My name is Harry."

"I know."

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**Chapter end notes:** OH MY! Did he just ask Draco to call him by his first name? What did you think about Ron freaking out on them? What did you like about this chapter? Please leave me one of your awesome reviews!


	10. Harry, please wake up!

**A/N: Hi! The response from the last chapter has been completely overwhelming and I'm so grateful! Reading your reviews gives me so much inspiration and will to finish the chapters faster for you, guys. **

**Someone asked me after the last chapter, why this is rated M and I think I have written it in the summary or in the A/N to an earlier chapter: it is rated M for later chapters. I did not want to write a PWP and it is important for me to make this believable. I'm sorry if I'm letting someone down by not having Draco and Harry sexing it off in the first couple of chapters, but that's not how I roll. Not in this story, anyway. Just making that clear for you: there WILL be M-rated scenes in this story, **_**eventually.**_** I hope you have the patience to wait! **

**This chapter is longer than any of the other chapters I've written for this story. About a thousand – two thousand words longer than what they usually are. Why? Because it's CHRISTMAS! And this will be my Christmas gift for all of you and I hope you like it, because I won't have the time to write another one and publish before Christmas, that's for sure. **

**delirium-storm (ENORMOUS THANK YOU!) gave me the idea to the…yeah, you'll just have to read and see. **

**Enjoy and Merry Christmas everyone!**

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**CHAPTER 10 – HARRY, PLEASE WAKE UP**

Draco had been lying in bed, staring up in the canopy for a while, waiting for Potter to show his usual signs of waking up, when Golden Boy suddenly jolted up next to him as if he just woke from a nightmare. Draco stared at him in shock from the unexpected awakening and Golden Boy stared back with a strangely flushed face and unfocused gaze. As Potter's lips moved, but no sound came out, they both panicked – Golden Boy presumably because he suddenly awoke without a voice. Draco because Potter was about to find out that he spent his nights under the silencio-charm.

Hastily, Draco grabbed his wand from the nightstand and removed the charm with a quick flick. He quailed for the rampage he knew was about to come. Slowly, without taking his eyes off of Potter who shifted to his side under the sheets, Draco took a better grip of his wand in case he would have to stun him.

Potter cleared his throat, as if to test the sound of his voice and it seemed as if he only now understood that he'd just been under a spell. He flushed as he met Draco's gaze.

"You silenced me?" he said quietly with a strangely hoarse voice.

"Well, yes", Draco answered simply. Potter didn't seem very mad. "You make a whole lot of noise."

"I did?" Golden Boy turned into Scarlet Boy and hastily looked away, as if he was embarrassed over something.

"Yes, Potter and it keeps me from sleeping." Draco did his best to sound irritated; as if it was Potter's own fault that he was silenced every night. Well, it _was_ hisfault, of course, but it would probably be a lot harder to get Potter to realize that as well.

"Oh…" Potter flushed even deeper. "I was that loud? I'm so sorry."

"Whatever…" Draco answered slowly, not really knowing why Potter behaved so strangely this morning, apologizing and all.

"What time is it?" Potter asked him suddenly, after a few breaths of silence.

"Five-thirty." Since when did Potter even care about the time? Draco always got them up in plenty of time for their classes.

"Oh, good. I figured we could just lie here for a while, right? No need to get up right away?" Potter sounded almost panicked when he spoke, watching Draco – who gave him his best odd look and shrugged hesitantly – carefully.

"I guess."

So they lay there in silence, complete, stiff silence, for a good forty-five minutes before they had to get up. Potter's tensed face had relaxed a little the last ten minutes or so and it got Draco wondering if it had been a really horrible nightmare this time. He had figured out by now that Potter suffered from bad dreams, but Golden Boy had never acted this weird before. Usually he calmed down a couple of hours before he woke up and Draco couldn't remember that Potter had acted any different this night.

Well, more different than usual, that was. Potter was his own category of different, Draco had realized.

Just last night he had indirectly asked Draco to call him by his first name, as if they were friends. It almost seemed like Potter assumed that Draco didn't know his first name, like that was even possible. Every newspaper had his full name written somewhere on the first or second page along with a picture of Potter blinking against the camera flashes, trying to get his eyesight back.

They dressed in silence and Potter flinched slightly when Draco accidentally brushed his shoulder with the back of his hand as he tried to put his shirt on. The scarlet flush spread over Potter's face again and as he glanced panicked towards Draco he slipped with his hand on his tie and accidentally undid the knot. Potter swore under his breath and Draco noticed that his hand had started to tremble slightly.

He had never seen Potter like this and it bothered him more than he liked to admit to himself. That dream ought to have been really bad, Draco thought to himself, as he eyed Potter carefully when he fumbled with the red and golden striped tie in his hands.

"Seriously, Potter snap out of it!" he shouted after he'd been standing there for too long, watching Potter getting more and more panicked for every second that passed. "What's wrong with you?"

Golden Boy's head snapped up and he flushed again, looking embarrassed with the tie in his hands.

"I don't know how it's done", he said quietly, looking down at his hands.

"How what's done?" Draco started to feel impatient of this panic state of mind Potter seemed to be in.

"The knot." Golden Boy held up the tie as to inform Draco of what type of knot he was talking about.

"Are you serious?" Draco sighed heavily, not knowing whether to laugh or cry at this.

"Well, yes."

"You've gone to this school for six years and you still don't know how to tie a tie?"

"Hermione and Ron have always helped me, and I try not to untie them if I can help it." Potter shrugged and started to shove the tie into his pocket. "I'll just ask Hermione in class."

"Oh, just give it here." Draco snatched the long piece of silk fabric from out of Potter's pocket before he knew what he was doing and loosened his own tie before gently putting it down on their bed. It felt wrong to put the golden and red tie around his neck as he started to tie it carefully. He didn't want to give Potter any reason for going to his mudblood friend for help because he thought that Draco didn't do it good enough.

"Could you show me how it's done?" Potter asked hesitantly as he seemed to watch Draco's hands carefully.

"No." He pulled the tied tie over his head and examined the knot critically. It would have to do. Good enough for Potter, anyway. Before he could stop himself he had pulled the tie over Potter's head and found his hands folding down the white collar over the red-golden textile. As he realized that he was touching Potter, and not with a clenched fist, he tightened the tie around Potter's throat hard-handedly, causing Golden Boy to wheeze pathetically for air before he was able to loosen it on his own.

"Thanks", he said quietly and looked away, flushing again.

Draco felt as if he had done something inappropriate that had made Potter extremely uncomfortable, because the rest of the day they barely spoke at all. Potter sat next to him in class, staring sternly straight ahead, going rigid every time Draco even moved the slightest. He acted as if Draco wasn't there, so extremely different from last night when he'd practically asked Draco to call him Harry. Like he would ever do that, Draco thought irritably to himself. Maybe that was why Potter was acting so extremely weird? He was probably ashamed, not wanting Draco to think that he'd actually wanted some sort of friendship. Draco would've been, for sure.

They spent lunch with Beaver, since Weasel had decided not to join them. Probably still angry for yesterday, Draco thought pleased with himself. Beaver acted like Draco wasn't there and so did Potter, but at least he wasn't humiliated or punched today. _A little something to be grateful for._

"What have you done to your tie, Harry?"

Draco's ears suddenly let their voices through to his brain. It was like he had developed a certain sense to tell him whenever people around him brought him, or anything related to him, up as a subject of their conversation. He wasn't sure if she was criticizing him, or if she just had to know _everything_.

"What do you mean?" Golden Boy asked uncertainly, glancing down at his tie while fingering the knot absentmindedly.

"Have you learned to tie it for yourself? I know I don't tie them like that, and neither does Ron." She leaned across the table, weighed the tip of the tie in her hand and scrutinized the knot.

"I didn't know there were different ways of doing it. I mean tying them." Potter glanced nervously towards Draco who glared at Beaver. He felt like slapping her hand off of Potter…_Potter's tie_. Like she knew anything about the different ways you could tie one.

"Did you read the instructions in a book?" She started to touch the knot and examined it carefully as if she was searching for a clue she knew was there. Draco folded his hands in his lap to resist the growing urge to slap her hand away, earning an odd look from Potter whose hand was hanging in an awkward position between the edge of Draco's thigh and the bench they were sitting on.

"No, I didn't. I mean Malfoy tied it for me." Potter shrugged, but Draco could see that he was clearly uncomfortable. Beaver just stared for a couple of seconds and then she sat back on her side of the table again.

"He did?"

"Yes, I did, thank you very much. I'm right here", Draco snapped as he started to feel tired of being treated like he wasn't there next to them, yet relieved that she had let go of the tie. "I take it you are impressed when it comes to my tie-tying skills?"

"I just…I've never seen a knot like that…" Beaver begun, with color rising to her cheeks, but Draco cut her off.

"Of course you haven't, Granger."

And she fell quiet, as did Potter.

Draco felt embarrassed for reacting so strongly over a tie. Over Potter's tie. It wasn't rational. He felt stupid and the sudden silence after his emotional outbursts made him uncomfortable.

Potter picked at his food and Granger's face was flushed as if she too was embarrassed over the situation and the reactions. Draco knew that he had done something that made them, himself included, wonder what was wrong with him. Why would he help Potter with his tie? He would have just let him go to Granger as soon as they attended class, but no, he had been there, tying that bloody tie and made a fool of himself. A mystery that would be the topic on every non-Slytherin's lips before nightfall.

"Malfoy", Beaver said unexpectedly, talking directly to him.

"Yes?" He straightened up slightly, afraid that his posture had sagged enough to make him look weak.

"I never thought I would say this, but I'm sorry for Ron's behavior yesterday. I…He was very impolite."

Potter's head snapped up as if, he too, couldn't believe what he was hearing. His friend apologizing, to _Draco?_

Draco felt like he was hallucinating or had entered an alternate universe where Beaver was nice to him. Potter's friendliness was confusing enough, but they had spent weeks together now which made it more reasonable than Beaver's sudden outburst of remorse over Weasel's behavior. He blinked slowly, one, two, three times before he even attempted opening his mouth. The fear of accidentally finding his brain falling out of his head from the confusing situation had kept him from doing it sooner.

"Well I…well that excuse isn't yours to make, Granger", he said finally. He felt as if it was the right thing to say. Not spectacularly rude, nor grateful. It was true – this excuse wasn't her to make, regretful or not.

"I know, but I just wanted to tell you, because Ron never will."

Draco snorted at her words, knowing she was right and shrugged. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a frown forming on Potter's face, as if he was disappointed with something. A strangely uncomfortable thought of Potter being displeased with his non-acceptance of Beaver's excuse popped into his head and Draco suddenly found himself saying something he never thought he would. Well, he'd found himself in that situation plenty of times the past weeks with Potter, but still.

"It's okay. It's Weasley." He added the last part to save his dignity or simply to not scare the shit out of Beaver with both tying a tie and accept an apology in the same day. And then he mentally sewed his lips together for the rest of lunch, making his best to prevent more humiliation on his behalf.

**-"-**

"I think she appreciated that", Potter said a few hours later as they sat in their common room, eating the dinner thathad been brought to them. Draco had insisted on staying there, afraid of what he would do to embarrass himself this time if he was to eat in public.

"Who and what?" he muttered, spiking a sausage with his fork. Potter didn't make sense, again.

"Hermione. That you accepted her apology. Never thought you would do that, to be honest."

He could see Potter shrug in the blurry part of his visual field, but he did his best not to look up. He'd done that mistake too many times the last few days.

"Me neither", he confessed after a few moments of silence and felt a slight sting of panic as he realized that he was pleased when Potter let out a short laughter.

"You never cease to surprise me", Golden Boy said quietly and Draco instinctively looked up, scrutinizing the face opposite of his. Thankfully the green gaze was concentrated on the window, which made Draco unsure of if his last statement was a thought that unconsciously was spoken out loud, or if it was actually meant for Draco's ears.

He found himself a little smug over the compliment. He had, truthfully, shamelessly interpreted it as such. And now his head was spinning, juggling thoughts and questions such as _why_ he would feel smug over such a thing, and _why_ he would interpret Potter's words as a compliment, simultaneously.

"Is there food on my face, or what?"

Draco blinked, realizing that he had been staring at Potter's face for ages and not noticing when said one had stopped gazing out the window and caught him staring like an idiot.

"No! What? No, no food." Draco felt the traitorous flush heat his face as he rambled stupidly while trying to reconnect with his brain.

"Lost in thought again, Malfoy?" Potter didn't sound accusing. It was like he considered himself used to this situation, which made Draco flush even deeper.

"Err, yeah. Yeah, just tired. Didn't sleep well." He had said too much again and it made him feel stupid for not being able to speak coherently or communicate like a sane person. He was beginning to question his sanity, though.

"Oh." Suddenly Potter's face seemed to close up in front of him, turning the same shade of scarlet as it had this morning. As he looked away quickly, Draco tried to understand his sudden mood change. It took him a few heartbeats to remember how embarrassed Potter had been this morning over his nightmare. Was he feeling bad again?

As Draco tried to find a new topic for their dinner, silent moments passed on. It made it impossible for him to save them from the awkward silence that spread over the distance between them for every second Potter sternly stared out the window and Draco tried to remember smalltalk 101.

He couldn't.

He pushed the food around on his plate while eyeing the remainder of pale orange foam that still floated on his pumpkin juice. He wasn't too fond of pumpkin juice, to be honest, but Potter had poured his glass before he could stop him. And who was Draco to be impolite?

The rattle of silver cutlery that was put down a little too hard-handedly on the table made him look up and notice that Potter's face had returned to its usual tone. He was less pale than Draco and there was still a faint reminder of summer sun on his skin.

Draco saw Potter's lips move and had to shake his head violently to get his hearing back into function.

"What?" he said confused and put his own cutlery neatly on the plate.

"I was asking if we could sit by the fireplace for a while? I feel a little cold. I guess it's the window." Potter shrugged as if he excused his own lack of body warmth, but Draco felt it too. It _was_ colder than usual, but he had felt it in the air all day. Winter was coming and the grounds would be covered in frost in the morning.

"Yeah, sure."

They sat down in the velvet armchairs with their linked hands dangling awkwardly between the two pieces of furniture, but it could've been worse, Draco told himself. At least Potter was quiet, right? A little too quiet, he admitted to himself as he stretched his feet as close to the fire he could without losing too much of his posture. He sort of missed the way they had joked around on the behalf of one another, even though it used to make him furious. It was better than this awkward silence, this suffocating lack of words between them. He understood this part of Potter even less than what he'd seen before.

A house elf turned up, offering them tea. As Draco accepted, Potter declined, still staring into the fire as if he'd just gotten his soul sucked out of his body by a dementor. The hours kept on ticking by as if there was nothing wrong, nothing weird.

Draco felt like a hundred year old when they stood up to go to bed, from sitting too long in the same position. He stretched his legs awkwardly, trying to ignore the way his joints cracked in protest. He saw Potter wince and massage his neck, as if he tried to rub the stiffness away.

He tried to remember if Potter had spoken a single word the last few hours, but he was fairly certain that he hadn't. Not since he had declined that cup of tea from the house elf. Draco was starting to wonder if he was suffering from some sort of weird post-war illness and was about to die, because he doubted that the nightmare had been _that_ bad.

The cool sheets felt soft and soothing around his body as he climbed into bed after Potter, but it was hard to relax when he knew that Potter would be tossing around whining in a matter of minutes and _silencio_ wasn't going to happen. As he stared up in the canopy he barely noticed how Golden Boy tugged his hand slightly when he was moving around, trying to find a comfortable position.

Draco felt restless, stressed even. The quiet afternoon and evening seemed to have given his body all the rest it needed and now it was in no mood for sleep. He could hear Potter sigh heavily, toss, sigh heavily, toss, rearrange the sheets, sigh, toss, for a good two hours before Draco gave up.

"I can't sleep", he confessed and he felt Potter calm beside him.

"Me neither", Golden Boy sighed and turned on his back beside Draco. "Wanna go for a walk?"

"A walk? Are you out of your mind? Being stuck with you is punishment enough, detention with Filch when he finds us, and he _will_ find us, is something I'll try to avoid." Of all the stupid ideas Potter came up with, this was probably on his top ten-list.

"No he won't", Potter said reassuringly. "I do it a lot when I can't sleep. I have something…it should be big enough for the both of us."

When Potter sat up and walked over to his trunk on bare feet, Draco followed him curiously. He tried to peek over Golden Boy's shoulder as he started to dig into his belongings. There was a lot of uninteresting stuff in there: clothes, books, a couple of knuts and a few photographs of people Draco didn't recognize in the dim moonlight. And then Potter's hand grabbed a fascinating material that reminded Draco of the consistency of liquid memories in a pensieve.

"What's that?" Draco breathed, leaning over Potter's shoulder to take a closer look. The textile looked soft and cool in Golden Boy's hand, almost _pouring_ from it. He half expected Potter to snatch it away from his hands as he reached out to touch it, but as Draco's fingertips carefully grazed over the material, which was indeed soft and cool under his touch, Potter only chuckled quietly.

"It's an invisibility cloak."

Draco wanted to die from envy, but he was too fascinated with touching the cloak to actually take his jealousy too seriously. He realized that he was practically caressing Potter's hand as he gently stroked the soft material over and over, wondering how it would feel against his cheek.

"Here", Potter said and held out the cloak to Draco with an excited gleam in his eyes. Draco shivered involuntarily, from the cold air in the room of course, and accepted it. He gently traced the faint patterns in the fabric with his fingertips, enjoying the sensation of the unfamiliar texture in his hands.

"This is brilliant", he mumbled and tore his gaze from the cloak, meeting Potter's.

"I inherited it from my father. Got it during first year and I have used it ever since. It's been a life saver and yeah, a Filch saver too." Golden Boy smiled sheepishly and shrugged as if he had revealed the secret behind his greatness.

"No wait…was it…is this what you wore…in third year? That _was_ you!" Draco had thought that he was a mental case for a good two months after the accident at the Shrieking Shack, where he'd been sure that he'd seen Potter's head floating around in the air.

Potter laughed and snatched the cloak from Draco's hands, who immediately missed the sensation on his skin.

"Yeah, one of the best days of my life. I've never seen you so scared, Malfoy." He continued to laugh, reminding Draco of the very embarrassing talk he'd had with Madame Pomfrey after that incident.

"It's not funny. You'd be scared to death if you saw my head floating around like a bloody smirking balloon." The blush burned over his neck and cheeks. He felt so stupid for not trusting his eyes, for not figuring out that Potter probably had a bloody invisibility cloak.

Two seconds later his fury was transformed into shock, as Potter threw the cloak over his shoulders. Draco blinked and looked down on his, now, invisible body.

"No, not very scared, actually", Potter said dryly, scrutinizing him with a smirk.

Draco snorted loudly, feeling a little embarrassed under Potter's gaze.

"There won't be much room, so we'll have to walk quite slowly and close to each other."

Draco felt his body tingling with anticipation, from walking around the school invisible of course, not having to squeeze in under the cloak with Potter.

"I'll manage", he muttered as Potter joined him under the fabric, pulling the cloak over their head, causing them to disappear completely.

Draco was sure he felt Potter's hand squeeze around his wrist a little tighter than usual and hisfelt his breath hitched from excitement.

"Let's go", Potter mumbled and Draco felt their bodies graze against each other as they made their way down the stairs and out of their common room.

He was thankful for remembering to put on socks before leaving their dorm when they walked across the freezing cold stone tiles. The school was strangely quiet in a way that Draco had never experienced before. He'd never been up after bed time, except for that one time during first year, and then he'd been too nervous to actually listen to anything else except his thundering heart. There was no talking with the exception of a few paintings that mumbled in their sleep, and no laughter, and no footsteps from students hurrying to their next class.

The moonlight had found its way through the arched windows, giving the chandeliers a spooky, naked look. He felt exposed, even though he knew they were invisible. His mind just couldn't wrap around the fact that no one could see them even if they walked right by.

"You do this a lot?" Draco whispered, not sure if Potter would get angry with him for breaking the silence.

"Yeah", Potter mumbled. "I find it sort of comforting, the loneliness I mean."

"You're not alone now." Draco instantly wanted to kick his own leg for that stupid statement.

"Wow, thanks for clearing that up, Malfoy. Unless you'd told me…"

"Shut up", Draco cut off irritably. He couldn't understand how he could've preferred this Potter over the silent Potter a couple of hours ago.

Golden Boy laughed and Draco could feel his shrug against his own shoulder.

"I hate you", Draco muttered, feeling like he had to make up for all the non-hateful thoughts he had been thinking about Potter today.

"Of course you do", Golden Boy snorted and suddenly came to halt so unexpectedly that Draco almost walked out from under the cloak before a hand grabbed his upper arm hard.

"Crap", Potter breathed in his ear. Draco searched for whatever Potter could've panicked over for a short second before a loud _meow_ cut the air.

"Mrs Norris", he stated quietly. She stared at them with her freaky eyes where they stood frozen on the spot, as if she could actually _see_ them. She let out another painfully loud _meow_ and Potter started walking backwards, dragging Draco along with him.

"Hurry, I think she's calling for Filch."

And they turned and started running as good as anyone could run with an invisibility cloak over their shoulders and glued to the person next to them.

"I thought you said this was an _invisibility _cloak", Draco sneered and hurried after Potter into the next corridor.

"It _is_, but whenever I meet her it seems like she can actually see through it."

"You _think_? She practically eyed my _underwear_."

He had no idea where they were going, but that bloody cat was meow-ing after them as if she was following.

"In here, just get in here. She can't open doors, right?" He grabbed Potter's arm and pushed him head first through the nearest door and shut it quickly behind them.

That was a mistake, Draco thought immediately as his eyes accustomed to the darker room. It was a broom closet_**.**_

"Oh great", he muttered.

They were practically standing on each other in the little free space the cramped closet had to offer. Draco didn't feel very comfortable having Potter's ragged breath puff against his cheek.

"Next time I'll choose where we hide, okay? Let's just get out of here while we can."

He could feel Potter squeeze passed him to reach the door, but they both froze when another high-pitched meow came from just outside the door.

"Oh, this is just _perfect!"_ Draco whined and rolled his eyes, leaning heavily against the rack of brooms.

"I heard that", Potter said irritably as he moved back from the door, squeezing past Draco again.

"What?" He did his best to sharpen his hearing, trying to hear whatever Potter had just heard.

"You rolling your eyes", Golden Boy muttered.

"That's impossible to hear, Potter." Whatever Potter's special abilities were, hearing eye-rolling could not be one of them.

"So you didn't roll your eyes, then?"

The brooms next to Draco rattled as Potter, obviously, leaned against the rack next to him.

"No. Yes. You were just lucky." He aimed, trying to find Potter's ribs with his elbow, but failed miserably, hit Potter's arm and a particularly hurtful part of a broom.

Potter chuckled and Draco could feel how the corner of his mouth twitched against his will. There was nothing funny about Potter's strange ability of hearing when Draco rolled his eyes. This was just stupid.

"By the way, it's your fault", Potter said suddenly, just as silence was about to spread between them again.

"What is my fault?" Draco muttered and didn't feel like taking the blame.

"Us, being here. We could've just kept running."

"I wouldn't call that running, Potter", Draco snorted. "We probably looked like Siamese dragons on firewhiskey, stumbling down the corridor."

Potter laughed again and Draco felt the tug on his hand as he heard how Golden Boy sank to the floor.

"What are you doing? We're leaving!" He couldn't believe that Potter was taking a break, or a nap, or whatever he was doing.

"Can't you hear her going on outside the door? Filch will turn up any minute and then I don't know what we'll do." He could hear Potter sigh from the floor and a bucket wobbled slightly from, what Draco assumed was, Golden Boy's kick.

"What?"

"He'll open the door, take a step in and be standing on top of us. And then we're done." The slight pull on his hand told Draco that Potter shrugged.

"Can't we just kill the bloody cat? Do everyone a favor?"

That odd satisfaction of hearing Potter laughing, finding him funny, came back, but Draco told himself that he didn't have time to panic now. Weird feelings were not his first priority.

"Or just stun her and put her in a box somewhere, leaving clues around the school. That would keep him busy for a few years."

Potter laughed louder, but silenced abruptly when they heard Filch's voice from the other side of the door. The bloody nutter was talking to the cat.

"What do we do?" Potter whispered quietly as they could hear Filch's muffled conversation to the psychotic cat through the door.

"I don't know! You're the world savior. Can't we just lock the door?" Draco stared at the door in panic, knowing that Filch wouldn't go easy on them when he found them.

"Good idea." For a second he thought that Potter was sarcastic, but then he heard a faint click from the door, telling him that Potter must have locked it with a non-verbal charm. Bloody Potter, always showing off. "Sit down. Let's try to squeeze as far back as possible. We might be lucky."

Draco snorted, but obeyed. He sat down next to Potter, half and half in Potter's lap since the floor didn't offer very much space, and they pushed back into the brooms and stack of quaffles as far as they could, without making a sound.

"You might go for luck, Potter. I go for skill."

"Be quiet, he might try to open it."

And Draco held his breath, hoping it was quiet enough. Filch seemed to talk to his cat for ages before the handle of the door unexpectedly was pushed down. Draco drew his wand automatically and prepared to cast that locking spell a hundred times if he had to.

"Locked is it, Mrs Norris?" Filch's words were audible now, when he stood so much closer.

They heard the rattle of keys on a chain and a frightening clinking noise as Filch pushed something in the lock. Turning it. Draco could barely hear the faint click when the door unlocked, but waved his wand hastily, satisfied when he heard another faint click as it locked again.

The handle was pushed down again and he felt satisfied when Filch swore on the other side of the massive wooden door. He heard the rattle of keys again, the familiar sound of Filch unlocking the door, and the welcome click when the door locked again.

Draco got a stupid, pushing urge to laugh, because the situation was funny somehow. He bit his lip, keeping the laughter down and continued to lock the door every time Filch unlocked it. He didn't count, but it had to be at least fifty times of locking after Filch had been unlocking and he could feel Potter's body shake from laughter next to him as Filch swearwords became less and less child-friendly.

Eventually Filch shouted all the foul words he seemed to know and kicked the door a few times.

"Let's go, Mrs Norris. We'll talk to the Headmaster about this door in the morning. It refuses cooperate."

They heard the cat meow loudly and Filch's swearing slowly faded away as they probably walked back to wherever he had his bed.

Potter exploded the same second as Draco shrugged off the cloak and leaned back against the rows of Quaffles with a satisfied smirk on his lips.

"_That_ was brilliant, Malfoy."

"Why, thank you, Potter."

"I feel slightly bad for this door, though. It will probably get its fair share of violence in the morning." But Potter didn't stop laughing, which told Draco that he wasn't too upset about the poor door and its future punishment.

"We should get back", Draco said after a few moments, listening to Potter's laughter as it slowly subsided into soft vibrations in his body. Draco could feel them against his own, causing him to shiver.

"Can we just…just let me catch my breath for a moment, please?"

Potter shrugged of the cloak, collecting it in his arms and leaned back, closing his eyes.

"Are you going to take a nap on me?" Draco muttered and watched the right corner of Potter's mouth twitch.

"No, just resting", he answered calmly.

"Yeah right. In a second you will be snoring, or having weird dreams next to me in a broom closet." It was meant to be a joke, but Potter's face instantly grew serious, making Draco uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry for the dream. I'm glad you're handling it this good. I mean…most people I know would freak out if their nemesis had a wet dream about them, while sleeping in the same bed."

"You're not my neme…_WHAT?"_ A wet dream? What? No. Nightmare. _Nightmare! _

"Yeah, what? You heard me, I woke you!" Potter stared at him with wide green eyes.

"No! I didn't hear you. You have _nightmares_ every bloody night, Potter. I've silenced you since the first night we slept together. No, I mean, since the first time we shared a bed. _You know what I mean._"

"But…_WHAT?" _Now it was Potter's turn to nearly shout and feel panicked. Well, it wasn't as if Draco had stopped feeling panicked. "You've _silenced _me?"

"Of course I have", Draco snorted. "I need to get my sleep."

"Thank Merlin for that", Potter muttered and Draco was fairly sure that he was blushing.

"You had…you were dreaming about me?" He couldn't help but feeling slightly curious. And a little flattered. But most of all terrified, of course, absolutely terrified.

"I…I think so. But you were right, that probably belongs to the category of nightmares."

"Oh please, I bet you enjoyed dreaming about me." Draco smirked and felt oddly pleased. Obviously Potter hadn't liked having wet dreams about him and that made it all safe, right? Nothing to worry about, just another opportunity to tease him.

"Ha ha, very funny. Let's get out of here and never speak about this ever again." Potter rose hastily and pulled Draco up with a surprising strength, forcing him to grab a hold of Potter's shoulder to not stagger into the nearest stack of brooms before he could reclaim his balance.

"Fine", Draco muttered as Potter threw the cool fabric over their bodies again.

"Fine what?" Golden Boy snapped and opened the creaking door. Filch must have kicked it quite hard.

"We'll pretend it didn't happen." Draco shrugged, knowing that Potter would feel it.

"Thanks." He didn't even question if Draco was sincere. Had they reached a level of some sort of trust now?

"I bet I was remarkable, was I not?" Draco sniggered when Potter's elbow hit him in the ribs.

"We're not talking about this", Potter sneered angrily and started to walk faster.

"I'm not talking about anything", Draco answered innocently and smirked.

"Douche."

**-"-**

An hour later they were back in bed and Potter had elbowed out his embarrassment on Draco's poor ribs, but it was worth it. The situation hadn't been nearly as awkward as this morning when they got back, and it was quite clear to Draco that a wet dream about them wasn't exactly something that Potter fancied. It was reassuring, was it not?

A low whine pulled him back to their dark dorm. Potter had fallen asleep about half an hour ago, but had been quiet ever since.

"No", he whined with a voice so small that Draco at first didn't recognize it as his.

He listened carefully, feeling Potter toss from side to side beside him, breathing shallowly. He wasn't sure what was happening now, but silencing Potter wasn't allowed anymore.

"No", Potter whined again and squirmed next to Draco as if he was in pain. "Please no. Please."

It was heartbreaking, even to Draco. His words didn't tell very much, but the tone of his voice, the sound of breaking helplessness caught him off guard. Potter was suffering, badly. Pleading, probably for his life. And Draco had no idea what to do, but he felt like he had to do something. Like it was his duty to do something.

"Potter", he said softly in an attempt to wake him. "Potter, you're dreaming."

He saw Golden Boy's face writhe, as if in pain and watched him sob uncontrollably.

"Potter, wake up. Wake up!" He nudged Potter's arm, trying to wake him up without scaring the living hell out of him. Draco had no idea how situations like this were to be handled.

It didn't work. Potter continued to squirm, whimper, plead, cry and sob, and Draco felt helpless.

"Harry", he tried, ignoring the unfamiliar way his tongue bent around Potter's first name. "Harry, please wake up." He shook the body next to him as gently as he could and for a second he thought that he had managed to wake Potter up as he rolled over on his side, facing Draco. The next thing he knew his arm was trapped by Potter's, who held it like a fluffy, pink pygme puff and snuggled closer to him. For a second Draco thought about jerking his arm away, but then he realized that Potter had calmed down, resting his forehead against Draco's shoulder like a child.

"This is weird", Draco said to himself, staring at Golden Boy cuddling his arm in his sleep. Then he sighed and gave up as he leaned back against the pillows. He clearly _had_ lost his sanity, that much was obvious to him. But whatever made Potter stop screaming, he thought to himself, shrugging mentally. He didn't like it. Of course he didn't, but it was better than the whining and pleading.

"I guess we're on first name basis now", Draco muttered to himself and took a last sideway glance of Potter's now peaceful face before he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. Potter's panic when he woke up and found himself snuggling Draco's arm, was something they would have to handle in the morning.

* * *

**Chapter end notes: BAMBAMBAM! What was that all about? Is Draco okay with Harry having wet dreams about him, cuddling his arm now? Please give me a review as a Christmas gift! MERRY CHRISTMAS!**


	11. You're far better than Goyle

**A/N: **Hi guys! Now's the time for the mandatory excuse that's supposed to explain why it took me over two months to come up with a new chapter, and why I haven't been answering all of your reviews.

Let's just say that real life needed some attention for a while.

The language in this chapter is probably not on the same level as it used to be, because it seems like my beta has abandoned me. So if there's anyone who's up for the job, I mean _anyone_, just send me a PM, or leave a review about that, okay? It would be greatly appreciated.

As always I loved your reviews and I'm so glad that I have all these awesome people, yes I'm talking about you, reading my story. All your reviews were truly awesome, and I'll do my best to answer all of your amazing reviews in the morning, as I upload this chapter 1 AM, because I truly _do_ appreciate them, and I'm so so so so sorry that it took me two months to respond to them.

Anyway, I hope this chapter kinda makes up for it.

As I've already said: you're awesome and I love you!

* * *

**CHAPTER 11 – YOU'RE FAR BETTER THAN GOYLE**

Something soft tickled his face.

Draco wrinkled his nose to get rid of the irritating tickling feeling against his upper lip and cheek, but it didn't go away. His brain did its best to connect with the rest of his body and slowly started to wake him up. He tried to whisk whatever tickled him away with his hand, but his fingers hit something solid instead. Something that groaned as he hit it by mistake.

About two seconds later, he was sitting opposite to Potter, staring back in an equally panicked face.

"Oh, it's _you_", Draco muttered as soon as his heart started beating again and the memories from the last weeks returned.

"I'm sorry", Potter mumbled in obvious embarrassment. "I wasn't aware that I was…_cuddling_ you."

Draco remembered last night clearly and how he'd been perfectly fine with Potter snuggling into him, finding peace in his sleep, at last. He felt secretly proud of being the one who could comfort the Boy Who Lived without putting much effort into it.

"Oh _that_", he said after an awkwardly long silence.

"I didn't know…if I had, I wouldn't have…you know." Potter seemed flustered and his face grew more scarlet for every moment that passed between them.

"I know", Draco heard himself say. "It's okay."

And an extremely awkward tension grew between them, preventing them from saying anything except for _thank you_ when the other handed the pumpkin juice or the eggs, during breakfast. Draco wasn't sure if he really was okay with what had happened the night before. Well, the evening before. Or, actually, more like the whole day before.

He had started to consider the _imperius_-curse to explain his lack of reaction over Potter's confessions of his wet dream in a broom closet and his cuddling in bed. There should be some form of rage fit from Draco's side, but there was nothing and he couldn't understand why.

He watched Potter drink his tea, eat his eggs and gaze out the window, and tried his best to summon some of his usual hate. There was some irritation over Potter's lack of table-manners, of course, since he obviously had grown up in a home where the fork hadn't been invented yet, but no hate.

"I believe there's a clever little thing called a fork", Draco said dryly as Potter picked up his bacon with his fingers and started tearing off small pieces with his teeth before he chewed them.

"No really?" he muttered and raised a questioning eyebrow towards Draco who picked up the fork from the table and held it up carefully to Potter in his palms, as if he was offering a treasure of some sort.

"It's very useful. You might want to try it." He knew for sure that Potter was teasing him when he slowly chewed on a long bacon strip and eyed the fork carefully.

"I think I'll pass. Hands work just fine." And then he started licking the remains of the bacon from his fingertips with a pleased smile. This was where the hatred would turn up as a welcome friend, because it always did. Except for this time.

"They're perfect for stabbing a couple of eyes out, too", Draco sneered and hoped that he sounded more irritated than he was.

"Are you threatening me?" Bloody Potter smiled.

"Does it matter? Are you going to kick my ass for it?" He muttered and felt something weird tickle in his stomach. Maybe the eggs were bad.

"Already have." And Potter continued to smile.

Draco snorted and rolled his eyes.

"I hate it when you do that." But the smile didn't fade.

"You hate everything I do, Potter", Draco muttered and gazed out the window. He hoped that the bitterness he had just detected in his own voice was something his ears had made up on their own. Because he wasn't bitter. Why would he be? Potter had always hated him. It was mutual. It _used_ to be mutual, but Draco wasn't sure it was anymore.

"No, I don't", Potter said and it took all of Draco's willpower not to look at him. His stomach fluttered weirdly, as if the tickling feeling he'd had on his face this morning had somehow planted itself in his stomach. The eggs had definitely been bad.

He decided it was the best not to answer, since he didn't know what to say. What did one say to such an obvious lie, anyway?

"Why would you think that?" Golden Boy said when it was clear to him that Draco wasn't going to keep the subject up for conversation.

_Was he stupid for real? _

"Oh, gee, Potter. I don't know. I think it might have something to do with you saying that you hate me at least five times a day the last six years, that you've done your best to make my life miserable, throwing mud in my face, catching the snitch before me _every time_." And now he sounded embarrassingly worked up over the fact that Potter hated him as much as he should hate Potter, but didn't anymore, for some stupid reason he didn't understand.

"That was before I knew you", Potter said unexpectedly and Draco made his usual mistake of being well-mannered and looked him in the eye. _So ridiculously green_. Damn Potter and his extraordinary eyes. "I mean…I've always had the impression of you being a selfish, callous idiot, until all of this happened. I guess you're like this really annoying pet that you hate, until you're forced to take care of it and then you grow to love it."

Draco knew he should be pissed off over the fact that he was being compared to an annoying pet, but his brain kind of stuck with the love-part. He realized that he stared at Potter when the face in front of him grew more scarlet than the Gryffindor banner.

"Not that I love you, of course. I just kind of learned to live with you." Potter stuttered a couple of times over the words, especially over the four letter L-word that kept repeating itself in Draco's ears.

"Right", Draco nodded lamely after being silent for too long for the respond to seem natural. Did he feel hurt? Why was he feeling hurt? Just a little, of course, much like that time when the whole school had laughed at him when Moody had turned him into a ferret.

_Bloody Potter. _

"I always thought you were a much more disgusting person than you are", Potter mumbled as if he, too, felt a little humiliated. "I mean, you _are_ selfish and all of that, most of the time. But that's not everything you are, you know?"

This was getting ridiculous.

"Just shut up, Potter. You're starting to sound like a dying poet. I know you love me and adore me. It's understandable and nothing to be ashamed of, since I'm brilliant." His face felt as hot as Potter's looked.

"And so humble too", Potter snorted and relaxed visibly. He had just saved him from a net of embarrassing sentences. Draco had gotten to know that feeling quite good the past few weeks.

"I could be described with pretty much every positive adjective one could think of", Draco said with a smirk, quite pleased to have some of the old Potter back. He hoped that the tickling feeling in his stomach would disappear soon enough, as well.

"Pretty much all the degrading ones, too", Potter said behind his hand, as if he pretended that he didn't want Draco to hear what he'd just said.

And so they went on, through breakfast and homework and for another couple of days, just as before. Potter had described it quite well, how they had accustomed to each other and how they kept fussing in a way Draco had grown almost fond of. He had started to appreciate the way Potter nudged on their linked hands to irritate him a little when they read their school books in silence, and how he had started to tear pieces from his bacon with his teeth extremely slowly just to get a comment from Draco about how disgusting he was. Only that it wasn't very disgusting to Draco anymore. Or irritating. It was kind of nice.

Potter was doing it again. Tearing. Eating. Tearing and eating. And Draco hadn't given him what he wanted yet, since he secretly enjoyed watching Potter eat his bacon like this.

"Didn't anyone teach you _any_ manners when you grew up?" Draco had spent half an hour leafing through the Daily Prophet and watching the first snow fall outside the window with the teacup in his hand. Potter had been eating with his hands, well _hand_, for about the same amount of time.

"Not really", Potter shrugged and licked the salt from the bacon off his fingers.

Draco found himself watching intently, as if it was the last couple of seconds of the final match in the Quidditch World Cup and not Harry Potter cleaning his fingers with his mouth. The flutter in his stomach hadn't disappeared as he had hoped, but came back every time Potter did something like this.

"Why? It must have grossed them out, too", Draco muttered and gave Potter's greasy hand a disapproving look.

"I don't think they cared", Potter answered vaguely and cleaned his fingers with a napkin.

Draco was instantly intrigued. He knew nothing about Potter's childhood, or how he lived outside of Hogwarts. There were rumors of course, but Draco had stopped believing in those ages ago.

"Why not?" He asked and watched Potter fold the napkin neatly four times, before he put down on the table. He sighed lightly and watched the snowflakes fall outside the window for a moment or two, before he met Draco's gaze.

"Because they weren't very fond of me", he said finally and Draco understood from the tone of his voice that he had chosen his words carefully.

"Did you kill their dog? Or call dibs on the biggest room in the house?" Even though Draco had hated Potter for six years he wasn't very convinced that Potter as a kid was annoying enough to make grownups hate him.

Potter laughed bitterly at something that Draco obviously didn't understand, but he was determined that he would. He wanted to know more about Potter. He wanted to know something that no one else knew. Considering all the books about Potter in mind, it would probably be a hard task. Considering Potter didn't seem to be very fond of telling anything about himself, it would be even harder. Considering Draco had been his enemy since first grade, it would be almost impossible.

"What?" he asked when Potter didn't give any indication on answering.

"Why are you so curious?" Potter looked at him intently, almost suspiciously.

"I know nothing about you, to be honest." But he wanted to. The more he got to know The Boy Who Bloody Lived, the more he wanted to know.

"I know nothing about you either." Potter's eyes forced him to keep their eye-contact and once again he was somewhat amazed of the intense color he met.

"Alright. I'll show you mine if you show me yours." He said finally and felt pleased when his choice of words sounded exactly as he wanted them to.

"Meaning?" Golden Boy frowned.

"If you answer my questions, I'll answer yours."

Potter seemed to consider this more carefully than Draco had thought that he would. He seemed very secretive and calculating about what he chose to tell anyone about himself. Draco watched as Potter dug his fingers into his unruly hair and he knew that there was a huge pile of doubt in there somewhere.

Just as Draco was about to give in to that weird urge to assure Potter that he wasn't going to sell this information to any news paper interested, Potter spoke up.

"Alright. What do you want to know?"

"_Did_ you kill the dog, or call dibs on the biggest room?" Draco asked and hoped that he sounded careless and not at all as if he had a thousand questions he wanted answered.

"I lived in cupboard under the stairs until I was eleven", Potter answered blankly.

Draco blinked a couple of times, dumbfounded. Considering Potter's words, he would have expected a more emotional outburst from Golden Boy, something more similar to the way witches and wizards cried over their lost ones or their tough childhood on the Waranda Nott show. He was reminded, yet again, that Potter never seemed to be anything that Draco expected him to be.

"Why?" He asked eventually, as his brain start to process this new information.

"My cousin had two." Still blank.

"You sleep in a cupboard on holidays?" Draco couldn't imagine the Wizarding World's most loved and famous celebrity ever sleeping in a small shack that wasn't supposed to be lived in, unless you were a house-elf.

"No. When I got my first letter from Hogwarts I got my cousins spare room. I'm rarely there anymore. I usually visit Ron quite a lot. They feel more like family to me."

"But why did the letter change anything?"

"I had no idea that I was a wizard, that I _am_ a wizard, before I got that letter. I grew up thinking that my mum and dad got killed in a car accident. I had no idea about any of _this_. Of anything. People in this world knew me better than I knew myself."

Draco had heard rumors of course, about Potter being tortured by a muggle cult when he grew up. It had been obvious that it wasn't true, but he had been sure that Potter had had a nice upbringing. That he had been treated like royalty from the start. He hadn't imagined anything like this.

"They never told you? Even though _they_ knew? _Did_ they know?" Was this the real Harry Potter? A scared, abused child?

"Yeah, they knew. My aunt hated my mom, because my grandma and grandpa loved the fact that she was a witch. They got a letter from Dumbledore that explained everything when he left me on their doorstep, but they never told me anything. When I got my first letter they threw it away. When I got sent more, they burned them, and eventually they forced us to this little cottage in the middle of the sea. That's when Hagrid came to collect me, to tell me everything. They've never hit me, or anything. They weren't mean like that. I just think they have this really low tolerance of all that's even slightly different to them. I guess it's a bit better now. My cousin and I kind of get along. They keep their distance and rarely talk to me. They just never understood, but that's just not me, that goes for anything that's not normal."

Draco thought that it had to be the most he had ever heard Potter say without an interruption or an input from Draco or anyone else. He wasn't abused; he had been neglected. Draco had been lavished in love and attention, and the thought of Potter not even being noticed or sleeping in a cupboard was kind of frightening.

"But you're a _hero_", he blurted out before he could think. "I mean, you're _considered_ to be."

"Yeah…not much of a hero, to be honest. I'm mostly terrified. I never asked for any of this. I've never _wanted_ any of this."

"What do you mean?"

"People got killed because I'm supposed to be some sort of hero, or threat, or _the chosen one_. It could have been Neville, you know. It could have been _Neville_. There's nothing special about me. It was a coincidence."

"I think you're special", Draco heard himself say before he could stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth.

Potter stared at him for a few long moments, as if he wanted to see if Draco was kidding or not. Draco _wished_ that he had been kidding. Just as he was about to take it all back, say something sarcastic so the embarrassment would be less humiliating, Potter smiled. _Really_ smiled. And Draco's stomach tickled weirdly again.

"You're easy to talk to", Potter said and looked a little embarrassed.

"Yeah?" An awkward tension, much like the one from that morning when they woke up tangled up in each other, crept up on them. Draco felt as though he shouldn't be looking at Potter and chose to stare out the window instead. His stomach behaved oddly again.

"Yeah", Potter said quietly and Draco could see him look the other way out of the corner of his eye.

"I could have a Quick-Quote Quill hidden somewhere and just sell this off to Skeeter." It wasn't his duty to ease things up a little or anything, but the tension between them made him extremely uncomfortable. He felt his body relax when Potter laughed softly and the tension fled elsewhere.

"You could", Potter agreed and he was smiling when Draco turned away from the window to look at him. "But I trust you."

_Well, that wasn't exactly expected_.

"You _trust_ me, Potter? After six years of me making your life miserable? Skeeter was right – you _are_ insane." Draco shook his head in disbelief, but he secretly felt a tiny bit proud too.

"Yeah, but you've always been straight forward with it. You've never pretended to be my friend, to stab me in the back, you know."

And Bloody Potter was right, of course.

Draco scrutinized the face in front of him. The unruly hair and the remarkable eyes – yes, he was still taken aback by their color every time their eyes met. For once, Potter's face looked almost as soft and relaxed as when he slept, even though Draco refused to admit to himself that he had been noticing such things lately. He wished that Potter could get rid of his ridiculous glasses already, it made him look more stupid than he had to. And as Draco studied Potter's slightly parted lips, the slightly pained proud look in his face, something that was always there except for when he slept, as if he knew what it was like to carry around the world on your shoulders, he suddenly understood what all the stupid girls were talking about. He had never thought of Potter as ugly, because he wasn't, but he had always thought of Potter as nothing special. But there was something there, something that made it impossible to look away once you've noticed it. Yeah, Potter had carried around the world on his shoulder for some time and it had left scars that weren't only physical.

And Draco hated himself for thinking that it wasn't fair. Not even to Potter.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Potter's voice didn't sound accusing. It was more as if he was worried that he'd done something wrong.

"I just realized that I can't hate you anymore, Potter", Draco confessed finally.

"Why not?" Potter seemed even more worried now, as if he was concerned about how his life would turn out if it lacked a decent amount of hate from Draco.

"Because I just understood a few things about you."

"Please, don't pity me. If there's one thing I really hate it's when people _pity_ me. I don't need your pity, Draco."

"You're like a pity party on legs, Po-…wait, did you just call me _Draco_?" The fact that Potter had actually said his first name was weird enough to take the attention from the way his stomach lurched at the unfamiliar sensation to his ears.

"No", Potter answered quickly, but his face grew way too red for Draco to believe him.

"Yes, you did!" For some reason Draco felt oddly pleased about this.

"Did not", Potter muttered and started to tear pieces from the napkin he had folded so neatly earlier with his free hand.

"Did too", Draco said and couldn't fight the grin on his face.

"So what if I did? Shouldn't we be on first name basis by now?" Potter didn't look at him and continued to shred his napkin to tiny blue pieces that landed on the empty plate in front of him.

"I'm not going to call you Harry, Potter." Only that Draco already had, but Potter had been asleep that one time.

"You just called me Harry Potter", Golden Boy smirked a little and continued to mutilate his napkin.

"No, I said: _I'm not going to call you Harry, comma, Potter_. It's not the same thing."

"You did it again."

"No, I didn't! I called you Potter and somewhere in there I said Harry, but that could have been another Harry! You wouldn't know!" Draco hated that he was getting all worked up over something as stupid as him calling Potter by his full name, which he hadn't done, of course.

"Draco", Potter chuckled and seemed to find Draco's childish stubbornness entertaining.

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

And Draco did. He didn't even point out that Potter had called him by his first name again. He kept his mouth shut during homework, even though Potter tried to talk to him. He wasn't mad at Potter, but he felt a childish urge to give Golden Boy the silent treatment for a while.

Potter gave up his attempts to start conversation somewhere around dinner and Draco felt victorious.

"Hey Potter", he said after a few moments of smug silence. The house-elves had collected their dirty dishes and Potter had leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed, just as he always did right after he had eaten.

"You feel like talking to me now?" Potter muttered without opening his eyes.

"Not really", Draco said well aware of that he was lying. "But my mum taught me manners."

"Not sure I agree with that." Potter still refused to open his eyes and look at him. Instead he pouted slightly with his bottom lip like a displeased child.

"Did you pout like that when Weasel's baby sister broke up with you, too?" Draco's mouth said before he could stop it.

Potter opened one eye and gave him a one-sided smile. Draco had been sure that his words would upset Golden Boy, but he must have been wrong, unless Potter had some new anger management technique Draco hadn't heard of.

"No", Potter said finally.

"No?"

"No." Potter shook his head in confirmation.

"Why?" Once again Draco found himself more intrigued than he should be.

"Because I broke up with her."

Something in his stomach made a comfortable lurch, but Draco wasn't sure what or why.

"Did she cry?" he said when his body had stopped acting all stupid and his words found their way to his mouth.

"Why are you asking?" Potter sat up and leaned over the table on his elbows. He looked at Draco in a way that got Draco wondering if he was searching for something.

"Just...curious", Draco mumbled and felt the traitorous blush creep up on his cheeks. He felt slightly uncomfortable with Potter staring him down and he kept asking himself the very same question Potter had asked him two seconds ago. Why _was_ he asking?

"Right, _curious_", Potter said and smirked in a way Draco knew he should hate, because it made him feel stupid and as he should understand something he definitely didn't.

"Just making sure you're not having wet dreams about me behind her back, you know", Draco shrugged and felt smug when it was Potter's turn to grow red.

"I knew I shouldn't have told you", Golden Boy muttered and looked away. It was dark outside the window, except for the lit windows of the castle.

"You could do worse. I mean, it could've been Goyle."

Draco did his best not to show how pleased he was when Potter laughed away the sudden awkwardness between them. The last few days Draco had found himself on a mission to get Potter to laugh, too many times. It was like he had gotten obsessed of the way Golden Boy's face lit up and the sound of his laughter. It was nothing special, it wasn't infectious, it was just Potter laughing. It was just that he rarely laughed at all.

"Yeah, you're far better than Goyle", Potter admitted and chuckled in a slightly terrified way, as if he pictured whatever dream he'd had with Goyle in Draco's place.

"I'm actually far better than most people, I'd say", Draco smirked with an odd satisfied feeling in his stomach.

"Of course you would." Potter met his gaze and Draco got lost somehow. It was as if all he could do was to stare back at Potter and wait for something to happen. It wasn't until Golden Boy broke their eye contact that he felt as if though he had regained the control of his body.

"Wouldn't you?" he asked carefully and wasn't sure where he was going with all the stupid questions that his mouth asked without his permission.

Potter opened his mouth, but hesitated. He seemed to choose his words carefully and chewed on the inside of his cheek for a few moments.

"I told you that I've had a wet dream about you, and you haven't harassed me more than usual, so I guess I can't argue with that."

"Like I've ever harassed you", Draco snorted. "Maybe you should come up with something better than lying. I'm bored."

"We could take a shower before bed, because I think I'm starting to smell bad again", Potter said and Draco instantly regretted suggesting that they should do something else. Especially since he couldn't argue against taking care of their hygiene like normal people. It wasn't like he fancied walking around smelling like they had done the first couple of days after the _dead fish_-smelling potion, but showering with Potter seemed like a death trap to him right now.

"That we could", he said and hoped that Potter would come up with more suggestions of how they could kill some time, but Golden Boy was already standing and waiting impatiently for Draco to get off on his feet. It would be weird if he refused to shower, but he wasn't sure how he would react to undress with Potter when he had been reacting weirdly to anything that Potter did lately.

He felt more nervous than he had the first time they were about to shower together. He wasn't sure why, because it was just Potter and they had been showering together a number of times by now. Everything went smoothly as they undressed and when Draco showered, even though his heart pounded in his chest as if he was in the middle of a Quidditch-final. He did his best to shower quickly, just to get out of there. The suffocating steam from the shower made it harder to breathe than usual and he felt a little confused from the lack of oxygen. He almost forgot to rinse the shampoo for no reason at all, but remembered just as he was about to tell Potter that they could switch. He had hoped that Potter would hurry too, that he had gotten Draco's unspoken message of discomfort, but of course he hadn't.

Potter took his time and Draco held the towel around his waist so hard that his wrist started to throb painfully from the effort. His mind must have wandered off somewhere without his permission, or the steam might have suffocated the awareness from his brain for a moment or two, because before he could stop himself he had turned around.

Quidditch had treated Potter well, Draco thought, and let his gaze follow the foam from the shampoo down Potter's back and, well, _lower_. He felt like Creepy Creevey times ten, but couldn't look away. Golden Boy wasn't any Oliver Wood in that bulky way, but slim and toned, just like any good seeker. Draco noticed a few scars just below Potter's left shoulder blade and another running lengthwise an inch from his spine at the small of his back.

He watched Potter's fingers run through his unruly hair, as if he made sure that the shampoo was rinsed properly. Golden Boy had his head tilted back, just a little, to keep the foam from his eyes and seemed oblivious to Draco's gaze. He seemed oblivious to everything.

When Potter straightened up a little, Draco turned quickly. He didn't have to make this any more uncomfortable than it already was. The sight of Potter under the pouring water had etched itself to his brain and every time Draco closed his eyes, the picture of foam travelling down Potter's shoulders and back repeated itself over and over again like a picture in the Daily Prophet.

Draco felt weirdly hot and out of breath as he heard Potter turn the water off and felt him move to grab the towel from its hook. There was a weird knot in his stomach and the tips of his fingers tingled weirdly.

He wasn't sure how he even got into his pajamas as they dressed in silence, because he concentrated so hard on not to look at Potter that the rest of his body sort of worked on routine.

"Are you okay?"

Draco jumped ridiculously high at the sound of Potter's concerned voice and now he felt even more stupid.

"Yeah, why?" he snapped and Potter flinched slightly at the unexpected harsh tone of his voice. He hadn't meant to come off as angry or irritated, but he felt feverish and still out of breath for no reason at all. And he felt embarrassed over the fact that he knew very well what was wrong with him. It was just that it shouldn't be Potter; it could be anyone _except_ Potter. He could blame it on the lack of privacy, of course, or the sudden situation of celibacy he had found himself in. If they had been in a more normal situation he wouldn't be attracted to Potter at all, or if he had been able to do what he needed to do, this would have been different. But this wasn't a normal situation, it was the weirdest bloody situation Draco had ever found himself in, and it wasn't as if he could just stick his hand down his underwear with the constant threat of Potter waking up next to him every night.

And now he had a growing problem. Literally.

"You don't look very well", Potter mumbled and shrugged apologetically as they climbed into bed.

"I just need some sleep", Draco muttered turned to his side, facing away from Potter. If he could just fall asleep it would have gone away in the morning, but he felt already as if he was doomed to fail when it came to sleep.

He counted the minutes in his head until Potter fell asleep next to him. He had stirred for a good thirty minutes until his breaths came deep and in an even rhythm. Draco turned on his back with a sigh. He wasn't the least bit tired and the picture of naked Potter kept repeating itself on the back of his eyelids as soon as he closed his eyes in a pathetic attempt to fall asleep.

A low moan escaped Potter and Draco groaned in frustration.

_Great, now he would have to cuddle Potter, too_.

Potter started stirring next to him.

He didn't seem as terrified as last time, Draco thought, as Potter moaned again. He didn't seem to be in pain either, since there was a little smile on his lips.

It was sometime when Potter started panting that Draco realized that Potter wasn't having a nightmare. And it was when Potter snuggled up to him, forcing Draco to realize that he wasn't the only one with a problem, that he started to consider that maybe this was _his_ nightmare.

He tried to concentrate on butterflies and hippogriffs as Potter practically moaned in his ear. Waking Potter up was out of question, though, this was embarrassing enough for one of them and Draco didn't need Potter to get the wrong impression of the situation.

On the other hand, Draco wasn't sure that the _right_ impression of this situation was any better, but Potter seemed to calm down next to him, finally.

Nothing in his pajama bottoms had calmed down though, and Potter's show hadn't exactly made it any better. Draco glanced sideways and watched Golden Boy's sleeping face for a couple of breaths before he let his free hand tuck down his trousers and underwear.

His eyes fluttered shut as the familiar feeling flooded over him. He bit his lip to stay quiet and allowed the pictures of Potter in the shower to stay clear on his mind. No one would know, right? Potter's calm breaths against his shoulder and throat made it even better. It felt forbidden, somehow. Just as he was about to let his mind do what it wanted with his mental images of Potter, a movement next to him caused him to freeze.

"What are...?"

Once again Draco found himself staring back at Potter. This time it was a little more embarrassing, he stated, as his hand refused to move away from the centre of Potter's attention to close the covers around him.

He was staring at Potter and Potter was staring at well, _yes_, Draco's dick. In Draco's hand.

He didn't know what to say. How to explain. On the other hand he was pretty sure that Potter could identify what Draco was up to all on his own. He was positive that the situation couldn't get any worse, but that was until Potter reached out and replaced Draco's hand with his own.

* * *

**Chapter end notes: **OMG! Please tell me what you think!


	12. Kiss me

**A/N: **As always, you guys are extraordinary and I'm completely stunned over the response on the last chapter. OVER SIXTY REVIEWS! What the heck you guys? That's amazing! YOU are amazing and now I'm just being corny, sorry about that. Lol.

I wanted to say thank you to my friend Caroline, who has supported me tremendously throughout the process of this chapter, go check her out, she's an awesome writer: _vinterdrog_

Also,an extra big thanks to _Darloudasha_ who discovered a huge mistake in my latest chapter and sent me a PM like THIS fast to give me a chance to correct it. This chapter is for you!

Another enormous thanks to _xMissBlackCherryx _who offered to be my new beta. You've done an amazing job and the line about basic locations is all her work, not mine. This chapter is for you, too!

This chapter… well, let's just say that I missed Ron and Hermione, and quidditch… and a decent party. So I decided to bring a tiny bit of all of the previously mentioned. Just a tiny bit.

And I won't do a Stephenie Meyer to you guys, so of course we'll start on the cliff where I left you hanging last time. In case you have forgotten where you all have been swaying lately, I added the last four paragraphs for you here:

_"What are...?"_

_Once again Draco found himself staring back at Potter. This time it was a little more embarrassing, he stated, as his hand refused to move away from the centre of Potter's attention to close the covers around him._

_He was staring at Potter and Potter was staring at well,__yes__, Draco's dick. In Draco's hand._

_He didn't know what to say. How to explain. On the other hand he was pretty sure that Potter could identify what Draco was up to all on his own. He was positive that the situation couldn't get any worse, but that was until Potter reached out and replaced Draco's hand with his own._

* * *

**CHAPTER 12 – KISS ME**

Draco forgot to breathe.

His gaze was transfixed on Potter's face and the concentration he saw there; on the focus in the now almost black eyes, due to the darkness of the room; on the slight tremble spreading in Draco's chest.

For a moment everything seemed to be put on pause. Potter's hand was still, Draco held his breath and it was as if they were both waiting for a sign neither of them knew how to recognize.

Draco drew a deep breath when his head started to spin and was embarrassed when he heard how ragged it was. He knew Potter heard it too and Draco saw how his Adam's apple bobbed slightly as he swallowed determinedly.

Potter's hand felt light as a feather when he stroked Draco hesitantly for the first time. His movement was slow and unsure, but Draco's body shivered from the feeling. He felt as though he should close his eyes, but it was impossible. Potter kept watching his own hand as he tentatively stroked down the length.

Draco heard himself gasp quietly as he felt Potter tighten his hold. He suddenly felt very warm with the covers still halfway up his thighs, but he didn't dare to move, afraid it would break the trance. Instead he focused on the profile of Potter's face, how his teeth worried over his lower lip in concentration and the feeling of his soft palm and fingers. He tried to keep his breaths in time with Potter's soft strokes. He tried not to let out the embarrassing sounds that piled up in his throat. He failed both.

A soft moan escaped him as Potter's fingertips bravely trailed the vein on the underside of his dick, causing waves of pleasure to roll over him. Draco knew that he was panting now, so embarrassingly loud. But he didn't care as Potter stroked him more firmly, breathing almost as hard.

Draco could feel the length of Potter's dick press against his thigh. He could feel the soft blows of hot, ragged breath over his chest and stomach. He could feel a heart beat thumping against his own body.

And it drove him insane.

Potter was keeping him on the edge as he stroked him firmly but slow, letting Draco quiver and pant helplessly for release, before he almost took him all the way once again. It was sweet torture, pleasurable pain, and the outlines of Draco's world were blurry as he tried to fix his gaze at the determined face above him. Potter's hair was slightly damp, with wisps clinging stubbornly to his forehead and his lips were parted, the lower slightly swollen as if he had been chewing it a little too hard. It was the most mesmerizing sight Draco had ever seen.

A loud groan escaped him as Potter's thumb gently caressed the slick head of his dick, tracing down the pulsating vein on the underside once again. Draco felt his hips buckle upwards as he desperately tried to ensure Potter that he wanted more. Needed more.

He shut his eyes for a short second as the grasp around him tightened once more. The movements of Potter's hand were quicker now. Almost desperate, as if he too needed to bring Draco over the edge that they were hastily closing in on.

Draco grabbed the sheets beneath him in a weak attempt to last a just little longer and whimpered needily. When he re-opened his eyes he knew that it was a hopeless. A few trickles of moonlight had managed their way through the window and hovered over Potter's tousled hair, causing it to glow around his head like a broken halo.

"Look at me", Draco whispered breathlessly as his knuckles whitened from his desperate hold of the sheets. "Please Harry, look at me."

And Harry did. Just as their eyes connected Draco was lost. His back arched from the bed as he came, pulling the sheets from the mattress as he stifled a cry. His body was still quivering from the aftermath of the pleasure waves as he drifted off into sweet oblivion.

**-"-**

When Draco slowly awoke the next morning it took him a few heartbeats to remember what had happened the previous night. His cheeks started burning within seconds, as he tried to think of something to tell Harry… _Potter_ to excuse his highly inappropriate behavior.

Something trembled in his chest as he remembered how Potter's eyes had burned into his as he had climaxed. After that, Draco's memory was empty and he came to the conclusion that he must have fallen asleep right after they were…finished.

The blush on his burning cheeks crept down his throat and across his chest as he realized that he must still be lying there, next to Potter, with his underwear and pajama bottoms halfway down his thighs. He opened his eyes hesitantly and let his gaze travel down his body.

The covers were hugging him around the waist and he lifted them, slightly reluctant, with his free hand to do some damage assessment. As he did this, he let his eyes flicker to his side to make sure that Potter was still asleep.

He watched Potter's chest rise and fall evenly for a few moments before he turned his gaze back under his covers. Draco frowned slightly as he tugged gently on the pajama bottoms and the waistband of his underwear. He was dressed. The lower part of his body was completely covered, just as it had been when he went to bed last night. Yet, Draco had no memory of that he had ever pulled them back up.

He let his hand travel over his body searching for significant signs of last night's activities that he knew were there. Except that they weren't, because Draco was clean.

Had he been dreaming? Was it all some sort of stupid illusion?

He sat up slowly; trying to avoid a head rush and let his eyes search over Potter's sleeping form for some kind of evidence.

The face was so peaceful, untroubled for once. Potter's body was turned towards him with his free hand hidden under the pillow and the arm connected to Draco was trapped awkwardly under his body. A few bleak scars contrasted gently against the still slightly sun kissed skin under a few golden rays of light that had searched their way through the window.

"Looking for something?"

Potter's unexpected voice caused Draco to jump slightly. His face started burning again as their eyes connected.

"No. I just…I wasn't sure if I should wake you", he mumbled pathetically, wanting to kick himself in the head for sounding so insecure.

"Problem solved." Potter smiled drowsily and rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes.

"I'm sorry", Draco blurted before he could stop himself.

Potter frowned as if he wasn't sure of what Draco was talking about.

"For last night, I mean." He felt like a stupid Hufflepuff for bringing the subject up, when he should have pretended that it never happened. Ever.

"For snapping at me? Sorry to have to break it to you, but I'm kind of used to you being rude to me." Potter grinned as if he was completely trouble-free and rolled over on his back, stretching out his free arm to fetch his glasses.

Draco was about to say that the snapping part wasn't at all what he had been talking about, but Potter showed no signs of having even the slightest idea what else had happened not too many hours ago.

"I…I must have been dreaming, then", Draco whispered more to himself than Potter, and crawled out of bed after him. He was dressed, after all, and clean. He would have remembered casting a cleaning charm and the weeks of involuntary celibacy could have messed with his mind. Thinking about it, it was far more realistic than Potter doing what Draco had been sure he had done a minute ago.

Potter kept a conversation going through breakfast and while they dressed for class and didn't even seem to notice Draco's silence.

In transfiguration Pansy and Blaise had strategically taken seats next to a couple of Ravenclaws, leaving no empty seats next to them. Draco knew it had nothing to do with him, but them being uncomfortable around Potter. It wasn't as if Draco was a stranger to that feeling, therefore he couldn't blame them.

Granger waved at them and pointed to a couple of empty seats next to her with a smile. Weasel only looked the other way, pretending that he wasn't even aware of that they had entered the room.

Draco heard Potter sigh in defeat next to him, as if he too had grown tired of Weasels immature behavior.

"Good morning, Harry... Malfoy." Granger added his name out of politeness, but he secretly appreciated it. She was trying, it was obvious, and it wasn't because she wanted to be friends with Draco, but because she didn't want Potter to have to choose sides again.

"Morning", Potter said and tried to make eye contact with Weasel, who stubbornly looked the other way.

_Bloody baby_.

"Will you join me to watch the game?" she asked them and smiled. It was meant for Potter of course, but she didn't exclude Draco.

He had no idea what game she was talking about and realized that Potter had no clue either, when Draco saw the blank expression in his eyes.

"The Gryffindor – Hufflepuff match, Harry. This afternoon." Granger sighed as if she had expected more of them.

"Right, of course. Do you want to go?" Potter looked so hopeful that Draco couldn't turn him down, and it was a quidditch match after all. It was something to do, something to take his mind off his own delusions.

"Yeah." Draco shrugged and Potter's eyes lit up as if he had gotten an early Christmas gift.

McGonagall was as stern as always when she entered the room with that familiar look of authority. She waved her wand and the chalk started scribbling furiously over the board behind her. Granger quickly followed the chalks example and Draco grabbed his quill, groaning inwardly.

"Crap", Potter breathed next to him, as if he had already given up on managing to scribble down the instructions.

Draco saw how Golden Boy did his best to write with his left hand. He had gotten a lot better over the weeks, but he was still slow and it still looked like a three year old with anger issues had attacked the parchment.

"Potter", Draco whispered boldly and prayed that McGonagall wouldn't hear him. "I'll take the notes; you memorize the wand instructions, okay?"

A tiny, appreciating smile tugged the corner of Potter's mouth and his surprisingly slender fingers ran along the feather of his quill a few times. Draco's breath caught somewhere between his mouth and lungs as he remembered so clearly the feeling of Potter's fingertips over his naked skin. He shivered from the memory.

The fake memory, he told himself.

He tore his eyes away from Potter's hand with effort and concentrated hard on getting his notes right, copying the words the chalk had written on the board. It was hard to tune out the even sound of Potter's breaths, the feeling of tiny movements next to him and the way his heart started to race every time Potter accidentally tugged on their linked hands, causing Draco to unintentionally draw lines all over the word he had been writing.

And the way something inside him seemed to stop whenever Potter whispered an apology.

When McGonagall let them out of her class for lunch, Draco felt feverish all over and a little light headed. He hadn't been able to focus on anything else than Potter's movement next to him the last half an hour.

"Do you want to copy my notes, Harry?" Granger pushed her parchments over to Potter's bench.

"Thanks, but I'll just take a look at Draco's later."

Potter seemed to be the only one that didn't realize that he had just called Draco by his first name in public. Granger stared at him for a few seconds, before she nodded as if she just answered a question in her inner monologue.

"Of course", she said and smiled warmly.

Draco wasn't sure if she knew something that he didn't or if she just had actually started to, well _like_ him would be an exaggeration, but at least accept him. Weasel scurried away behind her, with his books halfway down in his scruffy bag, as if he couldn't get away from them fast enough.

"He's just nervous", she explained as if she had seen Draco glare after him.

"Is he still mad at me?" Potter asked quietly and his shoulders slouched slightly.

Draco had only seen the two of them fight once before, during fourth year when Weasel's jealousy had made it impossible for him to stay friends with the fourth Triwizard champion. The whole school had been whispering about it, but after the first challenge Potter and Weasel had seemed to be able to put their grudge aside.

But now there were troubles in paradise again and Draco suspected that he had a part in it this time.

"I don't think so. I think he's just insecure of how to behave, since you're his best friend and Malfoy is… well _Malfoy_. Hopefully he'll just lighten up a little if they win the match today."

"Yeah, hopefully," Potter repeated. "Or I'll have to talk to him."

"That would go brilliant with me standing there next to you, since he and I get along so well, and all", Draco snorted. "That'll make him feel comfortable enough to open his heart for you."

Potter laughed and Granger seemed a little surprised, as if she hadn't expected Draco to speak at all.

"Have you two become friends?" she asked hesitantly as the three of them sat down at the Gryffindor table. Draco didn't even bother to whine about sitting at a table full of thick-headed Gryffindors.

Potter glanced at him, sending him a questioning look. Draco just pushed the unspoken question back to him with a raised eyebrow. She wasn't his friend; therefore Potter would have to do the explaining.

"I… well… I don't know." Potter said quietly. "Maybe?" he offered finally and Draco rolled his eyes at the diplomatic answer.

"Let's just say that we called a truce, Granger", Draco snapped and felt pleased to recognize himself again.

She flushed and nodded.

"I'm just very surprised, that's all. I thought you would have killed each other, by now. But on the other hand, you two have been quite more alike than you've ever been aware of."

"Yeah, because I'm a big headed Gryffindor with a hero complex and…"

"Shut up", Potter interrupted.

Granger seemed to relax a little when Potter told him off and Draco found it was best to keep quiet and let them do the talking. It wasn't as if he was interested in making conversation with Granger anyway. With a sigh, he glanced over to the Slytherin table, watching Blaise and Pansy sitting together at the end of the table. He missed them more than he liked to admit to himself, but he couldn't blame them for being uncomfortable around Potter.

Draco looked to his side, feeling his body tingle slightly as he caught Potter smile at something Granger had said.

Shaking his head as if to push the feeling away, Draco decided that quidditch would be good for him to take his mind off of things. Off of Potter.

**-"-**

The Gryffindor stand at the quidditch court was practically pulsating with bad cheering songs, colorful banners and excitement. Gryffindor was in the lead with a hundred and fifty points, to Hufflepuff's pathetic twenty, but there was still the matter of catching the snitch. If the Hufflepuff seeker caught it before Weasel's baby sister, Gryffindor would still lose.

It wasn't very likely though, Draco had decided after watching Potter's ex girlfriend for the past hour and a half. She wasn't nearly as good as Potter, but at least she was capable of staying on her broom, unlike the corpulent Hufflepuff who shrieked in terror every time a bludger was anywhere near him.

The Hufflepuff team was pathetic and even though it was obvious that the lack of Potter's leadership had weakened the Gryffindors, they all came off like professionals in comparison.

"Do you see it?" Potter said and Draco didn't need to ask what he meant. He had been searching the sky for the snitch out of habit and he knew that Potter had been doing the same.

"No, but I bet that the gnome they call a seeker on the Hufflepuff team will fall off his broom when he sees it. Either because he's far too terrified that it will hurt him, or that he's too excited to take some part in the game that he forgets to hold on to the broom. And if that doesn't happen, he'll just simply fall off whenever he tries to catch it."

Potter laughed and nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I've never seen anyone with a worse sense of balance before. Ginny has done a good job with them. I didn't even give her any instructions. She's brave to take the seeker position, as she's usually a chaser."

Draco followed Potter's gaze and watched the Weasley girl turn gracefully in the air above them, searching for the snitch. He suddenly hoped that she would be the one falling off her broom instead of the Hufflepuff.

"Sorry to break it to you, Potter, but the team isn't half as good as when you could train them."

"Yeah?" Potter turned towards him then, tearing his gaze from the game for the first time. He smiled proudly, as if he truly appreciated the words Draco had just blurted out without thinking.

_Maybe he should do that more often_.

"Yeah", Draco confirmed and found himself smiling back, wishing that Weasel's sister stayed on her broom, because Potter would probably stop smiling if she got hurt.

"You know, the Hufflepuff team is a disaster without you to play for them", Potter grinned and Draco elbowed him uncompassionately.

"_Ha-ha_", he said and snorted. A shiver ran through him when he felt Potter taking half a step closer to him.

"Are you cold?" Potter asked and frowned.

Draco felt more feverish than freezing, but he wasn't going to tell Potter that.

"Doesn't matter, the game is going to end soon anyway", he mumbled and shrugged as if he didn't care a bit about being a bit cold. Which he wasn't.

"Don't be stupid. It could take hours before the snitch turns up."

Draco didn't even bother answering and tried to focus on the game. Weasel saved the quaffle in a slightly clumsy way, but still earned a roar of appreciation from his housemates. Gryffindors had extreme team spirit, Draco had realized from the time he had spent among them on the stand. They would have cheered like nifflers in a treasury even if he saved the quaffle by mistake.

"Here", he heard Potter say before something soft was placed around his bare neck. It was crimson and golden, and smelled like Potter.

"I don't want your stupid scarf, Potter!" he snarled and reached up to tear it off. Potter's hand snatched his before he could grab a hold of the stupid, knitted thing and Draco glared at him. If any Slytherin saw him with a Gryffindor scarf on he wouldn't be very popular when he returned to the dungeons.

"You're cold. Getting sick because you forgot your own would be more stupid", Potter muttered but he didn't seem all that irritated.

"I don't care if I get sick", Draco said and tried to focus on anything but Harry Potter holding his hand.

"I do."

And just like that, Draco found himself thinking that he could deal with the Slytherins later and let Potter arrange the scarf around his neck without protesting. When Potter turned his face back to the game, Draco buried his nose into the soft garment and inhaled the familiar scent.

He glanced to his side when he felt someone watching him and caught Granger's eyes. Her brows were furrowed and she quickly looked away when their eyes met. Draco blushed and straightened himself. The scarf was humiliating enough, no one needed to see him bury his face in it as if he was Creepy Creevey with Potter's underwear in possession.

Gryffindor won, of course and Draco had been right. The Hufflepuff seeker fell off his broom in the very same second as he noticed the snitch so close to him that he could have reached out to grab it. Fortunately for the Weasley girl he had been lying face down in the slight snow covered ground by the time she noticed the small golden ball.

"She's way too unobservant", Potter sighed. "If the Hufflepuff seeker had had any talent whatsoever we would have lost."

"They'll be lucky to have you back", Draco mumbled and smiled in spite of himself as Potter almost beamed. It was embarrassing how his heart almost tripped over itself in excitement and how he suddenly felt very warm all over.

"Harry!" Longbottom ruined Draco's moment with showing up without warning. He looked like a happy puppy with red cheeks and a stupid smile on his face. "You're coming to the party right?"

_Gryffindors throw parties? _

"Yeah Harry, come to the party! We've missed your company!" And there was, in fact, Creepy Creevey bouncing in his place like a vibrating toothpick and stared at Potter with a scary amount of adoration in his eyes. Draco felt like planting the sole of his shoe in that freakishly broad smile.

"I've bet you've just missed having someone to stalk, Creevey", Draco snarled and felt a little too protective.

"That's enough", Potter said calmly and tugged Draco's hand to get him going, but it seemed as if he had a hard time keeping a straight face. "We'll be there, just need to change."

Creepy Creevey, still in vibrating mode, glared after Draco who sneered at him over his shoulder as he hurried after Potter.

"That was uncalled for", Potter said when they had separated themselves from the cheering group of Gryffindors who stormed through the halls of the school like a crimson and golden parade.

"No it wasn't. He creeps me out." Draco faked a shudder. "Lost any underwear recently? I think I know whose pillow you'll find them under."

"That is just disturbing", Potter muttered and pulled a face. "It's even more disturbing since I really can't say that it's something he wouldn't do."

Draco laughed and placed their linked hands on the wall that led into their own common room.

"So, we're going to a party?" he stated more than actually asked as soon as the wall had closed behind them.

"Yeah, sorry for not asking you. I just… you know, thought I should be there for Ron." Potter looked slightly guilty as he tugged his hair and met Draco's gaze.

"A room full of drunk Gryffindors - the dream scenario of my life", Draco spat, but he felt more nervous than angry.

"We don't have to go. They'll understand", Potter said quietly and removed his cloak before throwing it over the nearest armchair.

"Yeah, we all know Weasel for being the understanding kind", Draco snorted and removed the scarf from around his neck, instantly missing the feeling of the fabric against his skin, and the lack of Potter's scent in his nose. "We'll go, so you can tell Weasel that you're sorry, even though I think he's the one who should ask for forgiveness, but if I get murdered it will be on your conscience."

"It might be hard to imagine, but you'll probably be more of a burden if I had to drag your dead body around school for the remaining weeks, than you are now." Potter smirked and removed his gloves one by one, before putting them on top of the cloak.

"Always grateful, Potter", Draco muttered and felt a little humiliated until Potter's elbow found his ribs in a very non-hurtful way.

"I'm really glad you're—", Potter began but Draco shoved the scarf in his chest before he could continue his sentence. He was afraid that he would fling his arms around Golden Boy in a very out of character-way if he let the stupid git carry on with one of his thank you-speeches. Instead Potter's fingers grazed over his as he grabbed the scarf that Draco still pushed against his body.

Draco's heart stuttered ridiculously as their eyes locked and they stood there, with Potter's fingertips touching his own.

"Thanks", Draco mumbled and made the situation even more awkward than it already was. "For lending me the scarf, I mean."

"Anytime." Potter smiled weakly and nodded towards the stairs. "Maybe we should go change. We wouldn't want to be too late."

"Right. Change", Draco repeated and hurried his steps, hoping that he didn't show how everything inside him was boiling with something he didn't really understand. For a brief moment he thought he saw Potter put the scarf to his nose, as if to smell it, but he shrugged the thought away. Draco was the one inhaling scents like a love-potioned twelve year old girl, not Potter.

Changing meant pulling their shirts out of their pants, throwing ties aside and rolling their sleeves up their elbows.

Potter seemed strangely nervous as they walked through the corridors with Potter's invisibility cloak covering them, even though it was a Draco who wasn't welcome to a Gryffindor party. He was thankful that Potter's hand covered his dark mark, since he was quite sure that it wouldn't be an appreciated accessory.

Music and laughter poured out from the open portrait and Draco could see that there were a whole lot of people on the other side of that wall. He swallowed hard, trying to contain his cool appearance and prayed that no one would try to hex the pants off of him.

No one noticed them as they sneaked past the laughing crowd that stood guard next to the circular hole in the wall. He felt Potter's hold of his wrist tighten slightly, reassuringly, as they climbed through and stepped out in the Gryffindor common room.

It was crowded and extremely warm, Draco stated as they pushed their way through the horde of celebrating people. He wasn't sure where they were headed or why they still got the invisibility cloak on, but he decided to follow Potter without question. They walked up a winding stair and entered a circular dorm with five beds.

Potter pulled the cloak off them and folded it clumsily under a pillow on the nearest bed.

"I figured we could just leave it here until we leave. No one will come looking for it… well, since barely anyone knows I got it, really." Potter shrugged and ran his hand over his shirt as if to smoothen it.

Draco was too nervous to say anything and only nodded in response.

"Are you sure about this? I don't want to do this against your will…" Potter said quietly and Draco felt the intense gaze in his face.

"Potter, you're taking me to a party, not trying to get laid", he snapped and watched Potter's cheeks turn slightly red.

"We'll just be a little while", Potter assured him as they started to make their way back down the stairs. "Tell me if you see Hermione and we'll stick to her."

Draco felt relieved. Granger didn't seem like the partying type and if they stayed around her there would probably not be any embarrassing drinking games or humiliating dancing. Not that Draco was a bad dancer, but he wasn't up to relaxing around thick-headed Gryffindors anytime soon.

"You came!" Creepy Creevey had turned up in front of them and he seemed to glow from excitement, until he noticed Draco next to the object of his stalking then his smile faded somewhat.

"Yeah", Potter answered awkwardly as he kept scanning the room and it was obvious that he was too uncomfortable around Creevey to make eye contact. "Any chance you've seen Hermione anywhere?"

"I think she's with Neville, getting something to drink", Creevey squeaked and pointed vaguely towards the other side of the room. "I'll come find you later, Harry. It's been so long since we got the chance to talk!" he added when Potter had started to plow his way through the crowd, in search for Granger.

"I bet you look forward to that, Potter", Draco said as he hurried after him. "A chance to catch up with Creevey, aren't you delighted?"

Potter laughed and then waved at someone, probably Granger, by the wall they were headed towards.

"I'll run if I see him anywhere near me again tonight. There's Hermione."

Granger looked all but comfortable where she stood against the wall with an untouched glass in her hand. Draco had never taken her for a drinker or someone who enjoyed big crowds.

"Oh Harry, there you are! I was wondering if you would turn up or not. I didn't see you come in." She sighed in relief and hugged Potter awkwardly with one arm around his neck.

"We took the cloak. I figured we would have to leave after bed curfew and I doubt Filch would take a party as an acceptable excuse. Where's Ron?"

Draco tuned them out and leaned against the wall next to Granger. He couldn't care less where Weasel was and he was still trying to relax with fifth years shouting to each other a few feet away. No one seemed to notice him, and if they did, they obviously didn't care.

He watched the Gryffindors fill their glasses again and again, how they all greeted Potter, who seemed highly uncomfortable with the attention. Someone stuck a cup with Firewhiskey in Golden Boy's hand and Draco was surprised to find Potter putting to his mouth to take a gulp. He had never taken Potter for a big drinker, either.

"Harry", a voice said next to them.

Potter turned around as Draco noticed Weasel who shifted his weight from leg to leg, chewing nervously on his lower lip. Draco decided to give them as much privacy as he could by turning the other way.

"Not much for parties, Granger?" he said when he noticed how insecurely she fidgeted with the glass in her hand.

"I'm not too fond of people with clouded judgment. Someone always seems to get hurt…" she explained and shook her head. "Or too drunk."

"Hopefully they won't repeat their mistakes next time." Draco shrugged and did his best to tune out Potter's and Weasel's voices behind him. "You're all _noble_ Gryffindors, after all."

Someone started singing one of the better cheering songs from the game earlier and the whole room started bouncing and screaming. Draco winced and rubbed his ear when a couple of girls next to them decided to sing louder than everyone else all together.

"You and Harry seem to get along", Granger said after a few moments of silence and effectively avoided his eyes by scanning the crowd. An unsettling feeling lurked somewhere in the pit of his stomach.

"As I said, we called a truce", Draco said coolly and hoped that he sounded as indifferent as he tried to look.

"Wearing each other's scarves is an interesting way of showing it." She sounded as if she was talking about the weather, but she had lowered her voice so that no one but Draco would hear.

"I don't know what you're talking about", he mumbled and remembered so clearly how soft Potter's scarf had felt against his throat.

"I just don't get you", she said and met his eyes. "For six years you two have done your best to make each other's lives miserable, then all of a sudden you start defending him when Ron's being a prat and today you buried your face in his scarf as if someone just gave you…" She trailed off and left Draco with a funny tingling feeling in his fingertips and a sudden urge to chew his lip.

This wasn't good.

"Gave me what?" he commanded and glared at her in an attempt to not show her how often he had been pondering over the same things, lately.

"I don't know. Something from someone that means a lot to you." Granger shrugged casually, but she was looking at him as if she was trying to read his mind.

"I was cold. He lent me his scarf. Why do you care?" This wasn't exactly how he had planned the evening to turn out and he knew that it would be just a matter of time before Potter would realize that they were talking about him.

"I care because Harry is my friend and I don't trust you, Malfoy. He's been gulping down three of those already and I don't get why." Granger hissed and pointed towards a small tray with cups filled with Firewhiskey that floated through the air. "I don't know what you're up to, but I'm going to find out and when I do, I hope Harry is still in one piece for your sake."

"Are you threatening me, Granger?" Draco snarled and felt quite satisfied when her cheeks turned pink.

"I'm just making it clear for you that I won't let you hurt him, in any way. I'm not blind, Malfoy. You've changed, Harry has changed. Something between the two of you _has changed_."

Draco hated her for being so observant. He hated her for realizing things that he had barely realized himself. Bloody Granger and her super-brain.

"The way he looks at you, Malfoy, it scares me. He seems to _like_ you", she said when Draco hadn't found the right words to answer her with.

"He does?" Draco heard himself say before he could stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. He was far too interested in how Potter looked at him for his own good.

Granger gave him a funny look and wrinkled her nose as if she had taken his words for sarcasm.

Draco turned away from her and found Potter reaching out for another glass of Firewhiskey, looking as if someone had just crashed his wedding. Draco caught a glimpse of Weasel stalking away through the crowd and it was pretty clear who the crasher was.

"Looks like that went well", he said and watched Potter pour the burning liquid down his throat.

Golden Boy grimaced and met his gaze. He looked as if he was hurt but too proud to admit it. Draco wanted to find Weasel and hex his brains out, but Potter's frown kept him from reaching for his wand.

"Not really."

"Why?"

"Well…" Potter said slowly. "He said that I came here to… I don't know... steal some attention from him, I think."

Potter seemed to have a little trouble focusing his gaze. _Lightweight_. Draco snorted mentally.

"Yeah, sounds like you, Potter. Always in need of attention", Draco muttered and glared in the direction he had seen Weasel leave. A few weeks ago, he would have believed the accusations, but it hadn't taken Draco too long to realize that Potter hated the attention he got wherever he went. One would think Weasel would have gotten to that conclusion after six years.

Potter winced and grabbed another glass from the floating tray, but Draco stopped his hand before he could bring it to his mouth.

"I was kidding, Potter, and I think you've had enough. Let's go get your cloak and leave. Talk to Weasel tomorrow instead." Without waiting for Potter to answer, Draco started dragging him towards the stairs to the dorm where they had hidden the cloak.

"I'll talk to Ron, Harry. He's just being stupid." Granger stopped them by putting a hand on Draco's shoulder and sighed. "Wait here, I'll go get the cloak."

Draco nodded and stopped near the fireplace. Potter leaned heavily against the wall behind them and closed his eyes as if he was in pain.

"You're such a lightweight, Potter", Draco scoffed.

"Shut up. I'm all dizzy", Potter muttered and breathed deeply.

"Exactly", Draco retorted and studied Golden Boy's profile. He felt his skin burn when he recalled how he had watched Potter's face last night and what they had been doing. It seemed all too clear to be an illusion, but it was impossible.

"Here you go. Be careful. I don't want to hear about Filch catching you." Granger pulled the cloak over their heads after glancing around to make sure that no one was looking. Draco grabbed Potter's arm tightly with his free hand and led him through the portrait hole. A few minutes at a Gryffindor party was a few too many, but at least no one had gotten injured.

The corridor was empty and fell deadly silent as soon as the portrait closed behind them. They began to walk as quickly as possible in the cloak and listened to the soft snores from the sleeping portraits.

Potter seemed to be fine, but Draco kept his hand tightly around his upper arm. He didn't even bother to make up a lame excuse for touching Golden Boy more than necessary.

"I like this", Potter said suddenly. "The contrast. It's so quiet… and peaceful."

His voice echoed through the halls and Draco felt a rush of paranoia as he looked around, prepared to find Filch lurking in the shadows somewhere.

"Shut up", he whispered. "We need to be quiet."

They held their breaths and froze in on the spot for a few moments, listening for some indication that Filch was on to them, but the school was still quiet as the grave. Draco sighed in relief and tugged on Potter's arm to get him going. The sooner they were in their own bed, the better.

A loud meow gave Draco a déjà vú he had rather been without and his heart sank as he noticed Mrs. Norris standing at the end of the hall, glaring at them.

"This is not good", Potter muttered and seemed to sober up quickly next to him.

"You think?" Draco snapped and let Potter lead the way as they started running in the other direction. He was thankful for not having to drag a drunken Potter after him as he heard the stupid cat's angry meows echoing after them. Their footsteps seemed loud as thunder in the empty corridors and Draco was positive that it wouldn't be hard for anyone to hear them.

"In here", Potter said and sent them tumbling through a door to their right. Draco managed to kick the door shut behind them before he fell after Potter.

The cloak had slid off and Draco found himself on top of Potter who was lying on his back on the dusty floor, staring back at him. The air must have been thinner in there, Draco thought, because he had a hard time to breathe like a normal person. As he tried to control his ragged breath he let his gaze wander over the small, dimly lit room.

"Broom closet", Potter mumbled just as Draco came to the same conclusion and he saw the corner of Potter's mouth tug slightly at one side.

_Great._

"Glad you understand basic locations. Now shut up", Draco muttered and scrambled to his feet as he realized that his body was pressed firmly to Potter's. He felt flushed and a little dizzy without the help from Firewhiskey. "Get up."

Potter managed to get to his feet on his own and joined Draco at the door. He leaned against the dark wood and closed his eyes as he put his ear against it. A dark line of dirt contrasted against the skin on Potter's cheek and Draco put his free hand in his pocket to prevent himself from reaching out and wipe it away.

"Can't hear her", Potter said after a while.

Draco held his breath and pressed his ear against the thick wooden door, listening intently after any indication of Mrs. Norris following them, but the other side of the door seemed quiet.

"We'll just wait for a little bit, before we leave", Potter stated and leaned against the door, tipping his head back and closed his eyes.

"I'll kill you if Filch catches us", Draco muttered.

Potter chuckled, but didn't open his eyes and Draco found himself smiling.

"I'm sorry about Weasel", he said quietly. He wasn't, but he was sorry that Potter was miserable.

"It's not your fault", Potter answered and turned his head towards him. "He'll come around. Always does."

He seemed so forgiving, Draco thought. He didn't seem to hold Weasel responsible for what had happened, but himself. The complete opposite to what Draco would have done.

"I didn't see Weasel's sister there", he muttered and wondered why he even brought her up for discussion. It made him feel uneasy.

"No, she was there, I saw her. It's been a bit weird since I broke up with her. She usually pretends that I'm invisible." Potter shrugged and chewed on his bottom lip. "I'm sorry, about last night. Well, mostly I'm sorry for denying it this morning."

The last words had been blurted out so fast that it took Draco's brain a few heartbeats before he could take in the meaning of them. His heart started racing and he was thankful for the darkness in the room so that Potter wouldn't see his flaming cheeks. He shivered slightly as he recalled the sensations of last night. He knew that he should be angry, furious even, with Potter for his denial. But his heart was beating at double speed and his words forgotten for other reasons. He was relieved that he hadn't been hallucinating and terrified because now he was in a broom closet with Potter and a body that was starting to react the way it had done the night before.

"Draco, I'm sorry. I tried to say that to you last night, but you were already asleep… and then I started to freak out, so I thought that if I cleaned you up and got you dressed, we could just act as if it hadn't happened." Potter free hand tugged his hair and he looked defeated, ashamed even.

Draco stretched out his hand without thinking and ran his thumb over the dark line of dirt across Potter's cheek. Green eyes flashed to his in surprise and Draco swallowed hard.

"Dirt." He whispered and felt his breath hitch as Potter took half a step closer. He pushed himself up against the door to maintain the little space between their bodies. _There was that tremble in his chest again. _

"Thanks…" Potter… _Harry_ breathed and closed the distance between them, pressing his torso firmly against Draco's.

Puffs of hot breath hit his face and he automatically wetted his lips with the tip of his tongue. Harry's eyes bore into his, searching for something Draco thought as they stood with the tips of their noses almost touching. Draco's hand was still on Harry's cheek, his thumb caressing the soft skin and he could feel another heart beating so close to his through their clothes. Harry stood still, not moving an inch closer and Draco felt his lips tremble slightly in anticipation.

"Kiss me", he whispered, finally understanding what Harry was waiting for. Draco watched him close his eyes, before closing his own and he let a soft, satisfied groan escape him has Harry's lips crushed into his.

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**Chapter end notes: **Please, please, please tell me what you think! I'm dying to hear your opinions of this chapter.


	13. I'm fantastic like that

**A/N: **As someone wise once said: "the hardest thing about writing smutty slash is the pronoun confusion". DAMN RIGHT THERE MISTER/MISS/MRS! It was a paaaaiiiiiin. And I struggled. Hard. It was probably a million times harder than their…you-know-what. Yeah, so if you think it's at least a little good, please tell me, lol.

I also want to apologize for the amount of time it took me to update. I get like emails every day from writers who update their stories like once or twice or day. I wish I had the time to do that, but I don't. I have a lot to do in school and my last exam coming up in a couple of weeks, so I've been pretty busy.

Also I wanted to thank all of you for leaving reviews! You have been truly awesome and I really appreciate all of them. If I haven't answered yours it might be because your private message-function is disabled or that I simply forgotten. Please tell me if I haven't answered yours and I promise that I will! I find it very important to answer all of you, especially since you're all amazing and wait for my chapters this long.

Anyway, here goes.

* * *

**CHAPTER 13 – I'M FANTASTIC LIKE THAT**

Harry's lips were soft against his, even though he had Draco firmly pressed against the closed door to the broom closet. Draco groaned as Harry flushed his body against his, pressing their torsos together. He could feel every heartbeat, every ragged breath that ghosted over his own lips as Harry pulled away a few inches.

"Don't stop", Draco whispered and couldn't care less that he was almost begging, something he had been raised never to do.

Their eyes met for a few seconds and it almost felt as if Harry tried to memorize the moment, before he pressed their lips together again. A feeling of satisfaction pulsated through Draco's chest as their bodies came in contact once more.

Draco's hand found Harry's neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. He slowly traced Harry's bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, feeling a pleased lurch in his stomach as Harry groaned in response, parting his lips willingly for Draco.

Strong hands travelled along Draco's sides, keeping him firmly against the door but still somewhat fulfilled the need to feel that Harry seemed to have.

Draco marveled over Harry's soft lips and whimpered as the contrast of teeth gently trapped his bottom lip. He grabbed a handful of Harry's thick, unruly hair in an attempt to keep himself steady and in control, but he was already hard.

Teeth and lips abandoned Draco's mouth to travel along his jaw and his breath hitched as Harry kissed surprisingly rough right below his ear. Draco closed his eyes and gave in to the sensation of slow, torturing kisses Harry planted along his throat.

He had kissed before, of course, but nothing like this. Ever. He felt feverish and out of breath, gasping loudly whenever Harry's teeth came in contact with his sensitive skin and he had a desperate need to touch that he had never felt before.

Harry's body felt so good against his, the muscles on his upper arms strong under Draco's hands as he grabbed them for support when Harry nibbled his ear. He could feel the hardness of Harry's dick press against his own as they forced their hips together.

"Yes", Draco whispered, dragging out the 'S' unintentionally as the tip of Harry's tongue joined his lips at that spot just below Draco's ear. He shivered and let his eyes close to heighten the sensation.

He could hear Harry's breaths, just as ragged and shallow as his own. He could feel them whisper over his skin. He gasped as Harry bit down just where his throat and shoulder linked.

_Harry bloody Potter was too damn good at this. _

Draco caressed the hard structure of Harry's chest and abdomen through the soft fabric of his shirt. He pressed his hand against the small of Harry's back, pushing their bodies together once more and he could _feel_ the quiet moan against his throat as their erections ground together.

Electric shocks of pleasure shot through him and he buckled his hips again, moaning as the electricity blasted inside him once more. He knew that his responses to Harry's lips and body were bordering to embarrassing, but he couldn't stop himself from letting the sounds out of his mouth, from letting his hand caress the small of Harry's back and practically grope his ass shamelessly.

It felt even better than it had looked in that shower, Draco stated to himself and squeezed just enough to make Harry ground against him again.

"Yes. Oh, yes. _Fuck_." Harry's voice was husky and low, and made Draco whimper by the mere sound of Harry cursing from pleasure. Draco knew the feeling, of course. He was rock hard, almost aching with need and he groaned loudly as they pushed their bodies together once more.

His hand shook a little as he fumbled with the buttons on Harry's shirt. Even though their lips had locked again and Harry's tongue was tracing his bottom lip, Draco was a little afraid that he would pull back. But he soon forgot his fears as he explored the newly exposed skin with his hand, stroking the chiseled structure of muscles under surprisingly soft, still slightly tanned skin.

He could feel Harry shiver against his hand and Draco dared to drag it lower. His lips felt swollen and he had a feeling that the skin on his neck would never look the same again, but the only thing he regretted was not doing anything like this sooner.

His fingertips brushed against the waistband of Harry's trousers and they both froze, as if neither of them had realized what they were doing until that very moment. Draco felt Harry's lips leave his, to pull back only a few inches, just enough to make eye-contact.

"I…-" Harry started, his voice still hoarse, his fingertips lightly tracing over Draco's cheek as he seemed to be searching for words. "I've never done anything…like this before. Well, like this, not just like…_that._" He nodded pointedly towards Draco's hand with his last words.

For far too long, Draco's head was completely empty, only echoing the sound of the blood pulsating through his body.

"At all?" He managed finally.

"With a guy", Harry said quietly and looked as if he would have blushed if his blood hadn't been transferred elsewhere.

"Me either", Draco offered, his brain still too fuzzy to work properly.

A small smile ghosted over Harry's face before he crushed their lips together again, effectively kissing any coherent thought out of Draco's brain.

His hand didn't shake at all as he unzipped the trousers and he felt the puff of air over his throat from Harry's sigh of relief. Draco groaned as he felt another hand unzip his own and he slowly palmed Harry through his underwear, enjoying the feel of the hardness pressing against the fabric.

"Yes", Harry groaned and pushed against Draco's hand for more friction and mimicked the movements with his own hand, causing Draco to moan loudly before their lips met again.

The need for release was suddenly pressing on, his whole body tingling and he slipped his hand inside Harry's underwear, grasping the warm hardness of his dick. Draco let his hand stroke Harry slowly, taking in the feel of his cock and the enticing sounds that left his mouth.

It almost blackened in front of his eyes when Draco felt Harry's hand grasp his dick, adopting the same pace as Draco's.

"Oh _god_", Harry moaned when Draco's thumb caressed the slick head of his cock. "_Oh god yes, Draco_."

Draco knew they were way too loud for standing inside a broom closet in the middle of the night, way past curfew, but he didn't care. The sounds of Harry's moans, the way he said Draco's name as if he wasn't even aware that he was saying it, the way he stroked Draco – it was too much even without caring about getting caught.

His body was aching for release and when Harry grasped him more firmly and started to stroke him faster, moaning into Draco's ear as if he, too, was losing it, Draco realized that he had already lost. It felt as if his brain concentrated on the spots where their bodies connected and the sounds Harry was making. Draco couldn't take it.

"Yes, yes, yes! Harry I'm…I'm _yes._" Was all he managed to groan before his head fell back against the door as his back arched when he came. He didn't even notice that Harry did the same before he heard his own name joined by a moan.

Harry's damp forehead came to rest against his as they shared their ragged breaths with closed eyes. Draco stroked the strands of hair at Harry's neck absentmindedly, for a second he felt as if he was doing something forbidden, but then soft lips brushed against his own and chased the unwelcome feeling away. He could feel Harry's arms gently fold around him after zipping their trousers up again, pushing their bodies together in a way so different from just a couple of moments ago.

"I still feel light-headed", Harry mumbled after a silence filled with their calming breaths.

"M-hm, I'm fantastic like that", Draco said quietly, not really wanting to admit how much he enjoyed being held and cuddled against a bloody door in a broom closet.

He could feel Harry's quiet laugh against his cheek and smiled a little in spite of himself. A comfortable, fuzzy warmth spun around in his stomach, making him feel a little tingly wherever Harry's body was in contact with his.

They both froze when the sound of Filch's voice pushed through the door and Draco held his breath, listening intently to the footsteps that came closer for every heartbeat.

"Crap", Harry whispered and pushed away from Draco. Harry started buttoning his shirt with his wand and Draco noticed that his hair was even more of a crazy mess than usually. It wasn't going to be hard to guess what they had been doing in there if Filch tried to open the door and the whole school would know within the next two hours about Potter and Malfoy in the broom closet.

_Great._

Harry snatched the invisibility cloak from the floor with his free hand and motioned to Draco to join him beneath it. He looked just as freaked out as Draco knew he _should_ feel, but his brain was still too fuzzy to be able to compose any other feeling than that warmth Draco had flipping in his stomach.

He felt strangely pleased when he got under the silky cloak and their bodies came in contact again, but when Filch's voice sounded right outside the door Draco forgot all about the need to be near Harry.

"Stupid kids for throwing a party. They didn't think we would find out, did they, Mrs Norris? They didn't think we would catch them and take them to the headmaster, did they? Stupid kids…" Filch went on and on about the stupid kids he had to deal with every day, until the sound of his voice slowly faded into silence as he walked pass the door without opening it.

"I wonder who's stupid if he doesn't even open the closet doors when there's been a party." Harry snorted and Draco laughed in relief. As much as he enjoyed making out with Harry…and all the other stuff, he wasn't up for telling the whole school what had just happened.

"Let's get out of here before he comes back. I won't believe that we're this lucky before we're in our bed without Filch staring at us."

Harry made a face and pulled the cloak over their heads. They practically ran through the corridors and breathed just as heavily when the arch closed behind them as they had been in that broom closet half an hour ago.

"We're going to Hogsmeade tomorrow, right?" Harry said as he sunk down on their bed, toeing the shoes off his feet.

"Yeah, I need to buy Christmas presents." Draco nodded and spelled the sleeve of his shirt open before removing it and tossing it in his trunk. He crouched down next to it and started rummaging through it in search for the list of people he was supposed to buy gifts to. "Do you have any errands?"

When there was no answer he looked up and found Harry looking at him with an odd glint in his eyes. He looked almost heartbroken.

"What?" Draco asked quietly and tried desperately to remember if anything he had said could have been offensive in any way.

"I'm so sorry", Harry whispered and his shoulders slouched in a way that would have made Draco's mother upset.

"For what?" Draco stood up and scratched the back of his head in confusion, but couldn't come up with any explanation to Harry's strange mood change. It had come so sudden and Draco was sure he had a part in it somehow, but he couldn't for the world figure out what he could have done.

"For this", Harry said quietly and Draco flinched away from the tickling sensation of fingertips brushing over the scars on his chest. He saw the hurt flash over Harry's face when he cringed away and hurriedly put his hand over the one on his chest before Harry had a chance to pull it away. He hadn't even been thinking about his scars and that Harry hadn't seen them before and he knew he should feel uneasy about it, since he had tried his best to keep them hidden ever since they had gotten there.

"It tickled", Draco whispered and realized that he had walked straight into a situation that was far more intimate than the one they had shared in a broom closet a little while ago. "And…it's okay. You've already apologized."

"I didn't know what it did. I didn't know you would have these scars. I…" Harry looked as if he was about to cry.

"Jeez, Potter, don't be so melodramatic. You said you're sorry and I said it was alright. I broke your nose and almost had that half-giants pet decapitated. You don't owe me anything", Draco snapped, sounding a little harsher than he had intended to. For a second he thought that he had made Harry even more upset, but then a smile slowly spread over the still slightly kiss-swollen lips. Thank Merlin. Draco wasn't made for comforting people, he had realized during the copious times Pansy had burst out in tears in front of him and he never seemed to know how to react.

"I hate it when you call me Potter", Harry said and pulled a face, but he still kept that tiny smile steady on his face.

"Old habits die hard, Potter", Draco retorted snidely, but smiled back.

"We'll just have to work on that, won't we?" Harry pulled back his hand from Draco's chest and spelled the sleeve of his own shirt open before tossing it on the floor. Draco felt his gaze linger a little too long on Harry's naked chest and shook his head in an attempt to clear his brain.

"You're going to have Mrs Norris bite me every time I call you Potter?" he snorted and shucked his trousers before folding them on a chair next to the bed. Harry yanked their linked arms in punishment and Draco made a face of pretend agony before pulling his pajama bottoms on.

"I happen to know you're ticklish", Harry pointed out when Draco sat down on the bed and pulled the cool covers over his tired body.

"Don't you dare", Draco snarled and scooted away as far as he could from Harry while still remaining in the bed. He got a laugh in response to his threat and Harry nudged his arm as if to ask him to scoot closer again, but he didn't say anything. Draco had realized that Harry often choose to answer with a laugh, or a snort and not words, but he wasn't sure if that was Harry's way of saying that the conversation was over or if he was of the opinion that a snort was just as good as any other answer. Draco didn't share that opinion at all.

Draco sighed in defeat and flicked his wand to put the room in to complete darkness with the exception of the pale moonlight. He could hear Harry's soft breaths next to him and see the shadow of his silhouette against the pale pillow. Something turned inside his chest and he smiled to himself without really knowing why.

He fell back against the mattress and felt his tired body relax under the covers. Harry turned next to him, probably searching for a comfortable position, but Draco was waiting for him to fall asleep so that he would cuddle up next to Draco in his sleep again.

"Harry?" he said quietly after long moments of silence and hoped for no answer.

"Mm?" Harry mumbled from somewhere in his pillow, but didn't move.

Draco felt an odd knot in his chest. He worried even though he didn't want to. Harry had acted as nothing had ever happened in that closet and now he was falling asleep as if it wasn't even bothering him.

"Draco?" Harry's voice pulled him from his thoughts.

"Yeah…I just…what's happening?" And now it was out there, for Harry to answer. Because Draco couldn't.

"What do you mean?"

Draco had forgotten how thick Harry could be when he wanted to. This was bloody fantastic.

"Nothing. Never mind. Good night." He suppressed a sigh and turned his back to Harry, ignoring how awkward his arm bent behind him when he tried to avoid yanking Harry's arm. He closed his eyes, determined to fall asleep as soon as possible, but failed miserably when he felt Harry moving closer to him under the covers.

A warm arm snaked around his side and he could feel Harry snuggling up behind him, putting their linked arms in a weird position between them, but Draco didn't even care if he had to amputate his arm in the morning when he felt a few soft kisses on his shoulder followed by Harry's nose nuzzling his neck.

He didn't even care about not knowing what was happening right then and there. He didn't care about anything except for the soft puffs of deep, even breaths against his neck that told him that Harry had fallen asleep.

_**-"-**_

Draco woke early the next morning from feeling overly warm. It took him a few minutes to connect to his brain enough to remember what had happened the night before. He cast a tempus-charm and realized that they had a good three hours before they had to get up for Hogsmeade.

"Is it morning?" Harry mumbled sleepily behind him.

"No", Draco answered quietly and the overly warm feeling nestled itself in his chest when he heard Harry's slumberous voice. "You can go back to sleep."

He felt Harry's arm tugging him closer and gave in as he scooted back against Harry, closing the space between them and was surprised to find himself feeling completely comfortable in spite of their weirdly bent arms.

Later Draco awoke when a hand gently shook his shoulder. He groaned when he opened one eye and was immediately blinded by the sunlight. _Stupid bloody sun. _

"We got to get up if we're going to make it to Hogsmeade", Harry said and Draco could feel him moving behind him.

"Oh right. Christmas presents." The last thing he wanted to do right now was to go out in public and act as if he didn't want to spend all day in bed spooning with their precious Harry Potter.

"Do you think you could help me out with something for Hermione?" Harry asked suddenly and Draco had to turn on his back and catch a glimpse of Harry's face just to make sure he wasn't kidding.

"Are you serious? I don't even know her."

"No, but you might know a book or so that she hasn't already read. You know like…wizard history stuff, or so. The only books I know are the common ones and she has already read those, naturally. I can't give her quills from eagle feathers forever." Harry shrugged and looked as if he felt a little guilty over his lack of genius when it came to buying presents.

"I'll tell you if I see anything she might like. I need to go to this place anyway to buy something for Blaise. We can pick up something for her there." Draco tried to say it casually and not as if he felt really pleased with himself for being able to help out. Harry rewarded him with one of those smiles that caused Draco to forget how to breathe for a few heartbeats, leaving him all dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

They walked to Hogsmeade through the thick layer of snow that covered the ground with groups of people around them, talking and laughing in excitement. Draco noticed Creepy Creevey from a distance and made a promise to himself to hex the crap out of that toothpick and his mugglecamera if he came anywhere near Harry.

"Draco!"

It took Draco a few moments to realize that it was Pansy calling for him from behind them. They stopped and turned as she hurried up to them, but Blaise was nowhere to be seen.

"Hi!" she said a little out of breath and smiled. Draco smiled back and Harry nodded politely, apparently accepting that she accompanied them to Hogsmeade.

"I've missed you!" she added once they had started walking again. "I'm sorry I haven't visited you or anything. It was just kind of…you know…"

_Awkward. Weird. Harry freaking Potter is attached to your arm for Merlin's sake! _Yeah, Draco knew.

"It's okay", Draco said honestly and shrugged. It could have been worse – she could have acted like Weasel. "It's kind of difficult for everyone. I don't blame you."

"So Christmas presents?" she said with a smile, pretending like the earlier part of their conversation never happened in a very Slytherin-like fashion.

"Yeah, mother gave me a _list_." Draco rolled his eyes and shrugged. His mother thought it was very important for Draco to buy Christmas gifts to people who had once invited him to their birthday party when they turned five, or a very distant relative in Japan who Draco had never even met, because he might need a favor from them some day. Draco thought it was ridiculous to come up with presents for so many people and had started to refuse, but then his mother had agreed to come up with ideas for presents for most of them so that Draco only had to buy them. And since he didn't like to make his mother disappointed and had to bring a shopping list to Hogsmeade every bloody Christmas to make sure he got everything he needed to the stupid people on that stupid list.

"You, too?" Pansy turned her gaze to Harry and smiled politely. Draco thought he would faint from the shock of seeing his friend being polite to Harry Potter to make life easier for Draco.

"What? Yeah." Harry had obviously been lost in thought and a bit taken aback by being asked an honest question by a Slytherin. "Yeah, I have a few to buy too, but not nearly as many, though."

"Lucky you." Pansy sighed and turned to Draco again, who did his best to smile appreciatively. "Blaise couldn't make it, apparently, but he didn't have the chance to tell me before this morning for some reason, so I'm meeting Millicent at The Three Broomsticks. She left early so I thought I would have to walk there all alone, but then I saw you!"

"You look awfully happy for someone who just told me I was their last option", Draco snorted and Harry's unexpected cough sounded a lot like suppressed laughter.

"Don't be cranky!" Pansy said and hooked her arm through his. "I know just the right gift for you this year."

"You said that last year, too", Draco pointed out. "And I'm not really _that_ into a year's subscription to Witch Weekly."

He could see out of the corner of his eye how Harry had to bite his lip hard and look the other way to prevent himself from laughing out loud.

"I have a _much_ better present this year", Pansy said and shrugged off his remark as if it had been dust. "You just wait and see."

"Oh I will!" Draco assured her as they entered the gates to the tiny fantasy land that was Hogsmeade. "There's Millicent." he said and nodded towards the very bulky form of his housemate right outside The Three Broomsticks.

"See you later, Draco! You, too… err Potter!" Pansy skipped off and waved to them over her shoulder.

He turned to Harry who was gazing out over the small fountain beside the Christmas tree and the tiny houses with their roofs covered in snow. Witched and wizards hurried between the little shops on both sides of the cobblestone roads that were visible where the snow had melted away from too many hurried footsteps.

Harry had a few snowflakes in his dark hair and his cheeks had caught a little color from the cold. He had his scarf tied tightly around his neck and chin, almost covering his mouth, but Draco saw the smile there and his heart skipped a beat.

"What?" Harry said suddenly as if he just now had realized that Draco was staring at him.

"Nothing", Draco mumbled and blushed. He felt stupid for staring at Harry in a similar manner to what Creepy Creevey spent his days doing. On the other hand, he was pretty sure that Creepy Creevey had never spent his evenings in the same fashion Draco had done in that broom closet last night. One point for team Draco.

"Where to?" Harry asked and gave Draco that breathtaking smile for no reason at all.

"Where do you need to go?"

"You're the one with a list. I'll just come along and see if I find something wherever you go. I haven't really planned anything to buy, so."

"It's not really as if you have another choice than to come along." Draco snorted and started walking towards the Apothecary. "I'll just take all the boring stuff first and then we could get something to eat before we continue and I need to buy a book for Blaise, so we could just look for something for Granger at the same time."

"Are you always this much of a control freak?" Harry wondered in amusement.

"I'm not a control freak!" Draco protested.

Harry only snorted and rolled his eyes in reply.

A few hours later they sat at a table at The Three Broomsticks, gulping down their butterbeer to still their thirst. Draco had been sure that Harry would start to whine about being dragged along to silly stores with useless stuff for ridiculous prices, but he hadn't complained once. More on the contrary, in fact, Draco had got the impression that Harry had found it somewhat entertaining. Even though Draco almost had a fit over Harry's bad habit of looking with his fingers and not with his eyes, but he had managed to keep quiet every time he saw the marveled look in Harry's eyes as if he was entering a world he had no idea existed.

"Sorry if I bored you with all the shopping." Draco said and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Harry looked up at him from behind his glass with raised eyebrows.

"I wasn't bored! It was really interesting. I never knew stores like that even existed here. I mean I guess I should've known that you can shop for talking crystal balls, but it's not like I've ever been in the need for one", Harry said thoughtfully and put his glass down on the table. "Hermione is not really into anything but books and Ron's, well…"

_Weasel was too poor to even set his foot in stores like that. _

"I don't really know why one would want a talking one, though, because it never bloody stops!" Draco muttered irritably and kicked the bag next to him when the crystal ball started singing Christmas carols for the third time in an hour. When he looked up again he saw Granger and Weasel making their way towards them and tried to steel himself mentally.

"Hi Harry! Malfoy", Granger greeted and offered a smile to both of them. Weasel nodded behind her and looked as if he both tried to catch and avoid Harry's gaze at the same time.

"Hello", Draco said and scooted over with his chair so that they could join them at their table.

"Have you been shopping?" It was obvious that Granger tried desperately to keep conversation, but Weasel wasn't much of a help.

"Not really", Harry said. "Draco _has a list_, but we're buying more after we've had some rest. Have you?"

"Just a few", she said and pretended as if she hadn't heard Harry call Draco by his first name. Weasel had noticed, of course, but to Draco's surprise he didn't burst out in rage but looked as if he did his best to behave.

"Ron has bought a couple too, haven't you Ron?" Granger added as if to force Weasel to take part of the conversation.

"Err, yes. To mum and dad." He nodded as if to confirm his own statement and glanced nervously over to Harry who looked calmer than Draco thought he would.

"That's good", Harry said. "What did you get them?"

"A kettle, for mum. A couple of batteries for dad. He collects them." He added the last part with a quick glance towards Draco who nodded in his best attempt to be polite. He had a hard time to even tolerate Weasel, but it was obvious that he was trying and Draco knew how much Harry wanted them to be friends again.

The stiff conversation eased up a little when Weasel realized that Draco wasn't going to taunt him today. Draco didn't participate much at all, because every time he said a word Weasel got this weird look on his face as if he didn't know how to behave, so Draco decided to keep quiet.

"I wish we could ask you to accompany us, Harry, but we're going to get your presents now, so you can't", Granger explained as he rose from her chair, but Draco had a feeling she had planned this to make sure that Weasel and Draco didn't have to put up with each other for too long. He was forever grateful, of course.

"We should get going, too. Draco still has a few thousand, or so, to buy", Harry said and smirked when Draco pulled a face at him.

"Have fun! We'll see you in class, right Ron?" She put an elbow in Weasel's side and he nodded with what seemed to be a genuine smile. Apparently the golden trio was a complete again. Draco would probably have been less glad over the fact if Harry hadn't looked so happy.

As Granger and Weasel walked off Draco guided Harry in the other direction. There was a small, antique store that had a book section that few knew about. He was quite sure that Granger didn't or he would've seen her there in one of his many visits.

"I preordered a book I've been searching for as a gift for Blaise. They sent me an owl about it last week and put it away for me until I could get here, but I think we could find something for Granger since they have a lot of unusual books." Draco searched among the worn backs of the books for a title that could interest an incurable know it all like Granger. "Wizarding World: A democracy – Truth or Baloney?"

"Baloney. Seriously?" Harry scoffed and peeked over Draco's shoulder when he carefully took the heavy book from its shelf.

"Wizards have a thing for crazy words", Draco answered and handed it to Harry who accepted it with a wide grin.

"Wizards have a thing for crazy anything. This book is perfect for Hermione, though. Thank you." And then he offered Draco one of those smiles again that made Draco feel as if a swarm of bees had been flying around in his head all day.

"Ah, mr Malfoy!" The owner of the store turned up out of nowhere and offered a toothy smile in greeting. He was an old man with a few grey strands of hair left and a monocle on his right eye. He always dressed in overly colourful robes and had too many rings on his fingers, but he was very very kind and had a mind for service more businessmen should learn from.

"Bernard," Draco greeted and pointed towards Harry. "I brought a friend, too. He found a book and I'm here to pick up my reservation."

"Of course, of course. If you follow me Mr. Malfoy and Mr…?" Bernard turned, slightly confused over his own realization that he had no idea what Draco's friends name was, and looked at Harry who blushed.

"Err, Potter, sir. It's Potter."

Bernard exchanged a very unsubtle look with Draco to confirm that this actually was _the_ Mr. Potter.

"Mr. Potter! What an honour to meet you! I had no idea you were a friend of Mr. Malfoy's. Come this way and we will get you your book, ." Bernard hurried ahead of them through the store and pulled out a brown package from behind the register. He had unwrapped the book carefully by the time Draco and Harry had made their way over. Bernard pushed the book across the counter towards Draco who carefully picked it up and stroked the leather cover of the book where faded letters said: Quidditch – the comprehensive guide. It was a first edition copy that was almost a hundred years old. A treasure for any Quidditch fan with descriptions of that times most successful teams and their players and a complete guide of the best broomsticks the market could provide a hundred years ago. Malfoy Manor's library had a copy a little older than this and Draco knew Blaise had been drooling over it for years, but they were hard to get a hold of.

"Wow", Harry breathed and stroked the back of the book with a finger as if he was afraid he would break it if he used his whole hand.

"Yeah", Draco said. "It's brilliant. We have one at home, but Blaise hasn't been able to get a hold of a copy. He will be stoked."

"He should be. It's…I mean. That's like the best gift one could get, if one's not Hermione. He's going to be really, really glad for this." Harry smiled and Draco could feel his lips return the gesture without his brains permission.

A couple of hours later they were done and empty handed as their gifts had been sent back to the school by owls. Now they wandered around the streets of Hogsmeade while trying to avoid big groups of students.

"Do you want go somewhere in particular?" Draco asked when they found themselves wandering down the same road for the fifth time in twenty minutes.

"Just anywhere where there won't be a hundred people staring. I've had enough for one day." Harry looked a little tired and with right, Draco decided, when he thought about the huge amount of people who stared shamelessly, or even pointing at him. It was ridiculous how people seemed to forget all their manners as soon as they saw the lightning scar on Harry's forehead. "The Shrieking Shack?"

"Sure", Draco nodded, even though he wasn't too fond of that place since Harry had covered his head in mud during third year.

He let Harry lead the way through the village and he noticed that it was getting darker. It wasn't very late, but since it was winter the sun settled way too early for Draco's liking. He was getting cold to, as the long day outside in the snow had made his clothes clammy and all but warming.

"Harry!" Draco felt like killing someone when he saw that it was Creepy Creevey who came bouncing towards them. "I've been looking for you _everywhere_!"

Harry looked as if he wanted to sink through the ground as he plastered a stiff smile to his lips.

"Hi, Colin."

"So, you had a nice day here, Harry? Did you buy a lot of presents? I bought you a present, but I'm not telling you what it is. No, you have to wait until Christmas, Harry!" Creepy Creevey looked like a bloody Christmas candle where he stood, staring at Harry as if he had seen a naked Veela and while he kept bouncing in his place.

"You shouldn't have bought me a gift, Colin. I didn't get you anything." Harry said in a tired voice and Draco found himself admiring him for not having killed Creevey yet, because Draco was heading towards that point very quickly.

"Oh, that's okay, Harry! I just bought you something I came across while I was looking for something for my brother. So I was really sad that you left so early from the party, Harry. It would have been nice to talk to you more. I never see you anymore!"

And that was when Draco had enough.

"Creevey, if you don't leave Harry alone before I count to three you won't have legs to keep you bouncing", Draco said calmly, earning confused stares from both Harry and Creevey who started laughing nervously.

"One", Draco stated and pulled out his wand from his pocked. He watched Creevey look over to Harry for support, but he obviously found none. With a sigh Draco flicked his wand and sent Creeveys gaunty legs dancing down the street, joined by the rest of his body, of course.

"I thought you were going to count to three?" Harry said dumbfounded as he looked after the now tap-dancing feet and legs of Creepy Creevey who brought the rest of his body longer down the street.

"Let's just say patience isn't my virtue."Draco smirked and shrugged as Harry sighed in defeat.

"You know I'll have to apologize to him now, right? Where are his …_legs_ taking him? Back to school?" Harry sent a worried look over to the street corner where he had last seen Creevey.

"Don't worry. Someone will find him and free him from the hex and he'll walk home on his own."

"You just sent him off? No destination? What if he gets lost? We have to go find him!" Harry made an attempt to hurry after Creevey, but Draco held him back.

"I'm not going after him. He's probably quick-stepping around by now. If he's not back when we get back I'll go find him." Draco only added the last part because it was the only thing that made the crease between Harry's eyebrows to smooth over somewhat.

"I don't know", Harry Hero-complex Potter said and took a last glance towards the direction Creevey had last been seen.

"I _promise_", Draco said and tugged a little at their linked hands. "Let's go. The Shrieking Shack, remember?"

"Right." Harry smiled in defeat and only looked back twice to see if he could catch a glimpse of Creevey.

There was not a person in sight when they found themselves in front of the ghostlike building and Draco leaned against the top plank of the fence that surrounded the house. It looked a lot smaller now than it had four years ago and a lot less terrifying.

"Thank you", Harry said suddenly after a long, for once, comfortable silence.

"For what?" Draco turned towards him and shivered against his will when a cold wind ripped through his damp clothes.

"Are you cold?" Harry asked effectively ignoring Draco's question.

"Thank me for what?" Draco insisted and he could see how Harry sighed mentally over his stubbornness.

"For this day. It's been great. And thanks for being nice to Ron and Hermione. Especially Ron, as he's never been very nice to you."

Draco shrugged since he had no words to say that didn't sound ridiculous or cheesy, or both.

"So, are you cold?" Harry asked again.

"A little. We don't have to leave, though." Draco didn't want to force Harry away from the place where he seemed to relax for the first time all day. Draco leaned against the fence again and rested his head on his arms, just to make it clear that he was fine with staying for a while if that was what Harry wanted.

A surprisingly warm hand nestled itself between the collar of Draco's cloak and his scarf, providing his cold neck with a comfortable warmth. He looked up only to find Harry standing so close to him, their bodies brushing against one another as Draco straightened himself from his slouched position over the fence.

Harry's hand behind his neck pulled him closer, the clouds of smoke from their mouths turning in to one as their breaths connected. Draco closed his eyes as he found Harry's damp hair with his free hand right before their lips connected.

Harry kissed him slowly and almost carefully, so very different from the evening before. But this was _all_ so very different from the evening before. Something in Draco's chest tripped over itself when Harry pulled away for a moment only to come back in for second kiss, a little more determined this time.

And for the first time, Draco's knees grew weak from a simple kiss.

* * *

**Chapter end notes: **Thank you so much for reading. As always I appreciate hearing all of your opinions. I'll do my best to answer your reviews, of course, but it might take some time due to exams and other utterly boring and (sadly) time-consuming stuff. _There aren't many chapters left now, ladies and gents! _


	14. It's a note

_**A/N:** Hi guys! I'm sorry that this chapter took me ages. I've been SO, SO, SOOOO busy. I finished school a little over a month ago and then I started work, celebrated my birthday and everything. I've finished a one-shot during that time, and started on another. Also, I've written a swedish story that is not fanfiction, but probably will be published in the future. So…I have not had much time to write at all. I'm so sorry for that. _

_Hopefully, though, you guys enjoy this chapter. _

_Thanks to all of you guys who have reviewed. I'm so grateful for all of your feedback! _

_Another big thanks to gbheart who was my beta for this chapter – you made an incredible job, as always. Thank you for your amazing help!_

_You guys helped me get past the magic number of FOURHUNDRED REVIEWS recently. You're amazing! Thank you all! _

_This chapter is quite short, because it is divided into two parts. I thought about writing an extremely long chapter, but I felt like I'd rather publish a shorter one right now, and hopefully be able to give you the rest within a week or two. I'll do my best! I've already started writing. :)_

_Also, my thoughts are with the people of Norway and the awful happenings there. I thought I would repeat something beautiful one of the girls that was on the island __Utøya when it all happened: _

"_**If one man could show that much hate, think about how much love we all can show together." **_

* * *

**CHAPTER 14 - IT'S A NOTE**

"Flobberworm," Draco said as he held his hand, palm up, towards Harry without taking his eyes from the boiling potion in front of them.

"Flobberworm," Harry repeated and placed the neatly chopped pieces in the waiting hand before him.

It was a complicated potion and a couple of people, Longbottom included, had already failed at succeeding with the easier part of the concoction. Slughorn had described it as a test to see how successful he had been with his teaching.

As far as Draco was concerned, the man had failed miserably. Considering the probable outcome of the test, Slughorn would have a similar impression within the hour.

"Stir three times counter-clockwise," Harry instructed with his nose buried amongst the pages of their instructions.

"Stirring three times counter-clockwise," Draco repeated and grabbed the big wooden spoon. He counted mentally as he stirred, and stopped immediately when he finished the third lap around the cauldron.

"We're supposed to wait for thirty seconds, and then it's supposed to turn bright lilac." Harry closed the book around his index finger to keep track of how far they had gotten through the instructions, and looked intently at the blood-red liquid.

"Then what?"

"Then we're supposed to stir two times clockwise and wait another fifteen seconds for it to turn yellow."

Draco had been surprised the first time he realised that Harry was not completely daft, but actually quite a lot smarter than he had been given credit for. For years, Draco had had the impression of Granger as the brain of the Golden Trio, and Harry as the big headed, self-announced leader. It had been weeks, though, since he had come to the conclusion that this was not completely true. In fact, Harry was quite good at a lot of things, even though he struggled with charms.

Draco would rather die than confess his realisations to anyone else, of course.

"_Yes_," Harry said triumphantly as the potion turned bright lilac – almost glowing in the dusk-like light of the dungeons.

"Merlin, I'm brilliant."

"Care to give me some credit for actually helping out quite a lot?" Harry asked under a raised eyebrow.

"Perhaps. If you behave," Draco answered and glared at the accusing face next to him. He could see Harry bite back a smile behind the snort he let out, yet again thinking it was an acceptable answer.

For some reason, they worked a lot better as a team now than they had initially. Draco assumed that it had something to do with them no longer hating on each other or taking every chance they got to degrade the other. But he also guessed that it had something to do with the growing trust between them.

Every time he looked at Harry, a weird feeling spread through his stomach as an epidemic He had decided not to think about it too much, because he was not sure if he wanted to figure out _why_.

Draco had even started to accept the fact that whenever they did well in potions, Harry would be the one to receive the credit from their professor. Draco had also accepted the fact that it was not Harry's fault but Slughorn's, who seemed to collect acquaintances with celebrities or students who most likely would become one, like Draco had collected chocolate frog cards as a kid. It was rather disturbing, thinking about it.

"Two times clockwise," Harry reminded him with an elbow in Draco's ribs to wake him from his thoughts.

"Right." He tried to ignore the weird tingling feeling in his left side and started to stir with Harry counting aloud next to him.

"That's two. Now we have to wait for fifteen seconds."

Draco held his breath. This was the crucial moment of the test. If they had succeeded with the potion, it would turn sunflower yellow within a few seconds and, if they had failed, they would have to do the first part of their NEWTs at the end of the next terms.

As he reached the number fifteen in his head, the potion was still bright lilac and showed no signs of beginning to change.

"Bloody fantastic," Draco muttered and rubbed the back of his free hand over his tired eyes. They had been at this stupid recipe for the past two and a half hours, hoping to be able to skip the first part of their upcoming NEWTs just like Slughorn had promised, but apparently they had done something wrong along the way.

"Look!" Harry nudged at their linked hands, willing Draco to focus his attention on the boiling brew in front of them.

Slowly, the liquid turned from lilac to orange and then it brightened, reminding Draco of the sunrises at the manor, into a clear yellow colour.

"I think –" Harry started without any intention of finishing his sentence.

They stared in unison at the glowing concoction, not sure if they really _had_ succeeded, or if they were imagining the whole thing.

"Yeah," Draco agreed, nodding slowly.

"Harry, my boy!" The pompous voice of Slughorn came travelling into their bubble of shock over their success. Draco knew this would be another of those moments where Harry would get all the credit and the rest of the class would sigh in defeat, but he did not really care anymore.

-"-

As they walked through the corridors, heading towards the Great Hall for dinner with empty stomachs, Draco did his best to ignore the armour's bad attempt at another of Celestina Warbeck's Christmas carols.

"Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy!"

Draco turned around, only to see McGonagall stalking towards them with the usual grave look on her face. It seemed as though she had been looking for them.

"Yes, Professor?" Harry looked almost nervous, as if he was afraid that they had been breaking rules without their knowledge.

"Have you spoken to Professor Snape recently?"

Draco almost choked on his own laughter from the look on Harry's face, but managed to disguise it into a sudden fit of coughing. He was rewarded with a stern look from McGonagall, who did not seem to understand the hilarity of her question.

"No, Professor," Harry answered.

"Then I suggest you do. I thought Professor Slughorn would have told you during your class with him today, but I suspect that he simply forgot. If I understood his discussion with Professor Snape correctly, the potion is about to be ready soon.

"_The potion?_" Draco repeated. He felt as if he had lost an important piece of a puzzle.

"Yes, _the potion, _Mr Malfoy." McGonagall nodded pointedly towards the linked hands of him and Harry.

"Oh." Was all Draco could manage. _The potion._ The same one he had been desperate for weeks ago but had forgotten all about until now. He knew that he was supposed to be relieved over the fact that the madness he had been put through, over the past few weeks, was coming to an end.

Except that Draco was not.

Judging from the look on the other boy's face, he was not very relieved either.

"I guess we should get going, then," Harry said quietly and pulled hesitantly at their linked hands. "Thank you, Professor."

They were quiet as they walked through the abandoned corridors, Draco leading the way to his Head of House's chambers. Their hunger had subsided quickly in time with the realisation of McGonagall's words.

"I guess you'll be able to go home for Christmas after all," Harry mumbled, referring to Draco's irritation the other day when he had realised that he would not, for the first time in years, be able to celebrate Christmas at Malfoy Manor. He had come to the conclusion, shortly after his outburst, that it would not be so bad to celebrate Christmas with Harry, but he had not said so out loud, of course.

"Yeah, I guess," Draco agreed without feeling anything even close to relief. Instead, he had a thorn digging its way into the pit of his stomach, making him feel nauseous from insecurity.

Sometime after he and Harry had stopped trying to kill, maim and hurt each other, something else had happened. Draco had decided not to put a name on it, but it included snogging each other senseless and similar activities to what they had done in the broom cupboard a while ago.

The thorn in his stomach told him that he was going to miss it, if he never got to experience it again.

They said nothing more until they stopped in front of the door to Snape's office and knocked on the door.

As Draco quickly glanced to his side, he noticed how Harry's face mirrored his feelings completely in those hard-set features. He wanted to say something to make the whole situation easier, but before he had managed to put the words together, the sound of the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher sounded through the door:

"Enter."

Draco pushed the door open and found himself taking the role of the leader Harry so often stepped into. He noticed how he placed himself half a step in front of the other boy, as if his unconscious was getting ready to shield Harry from any hex from Snape, who calmly sat behind the desk.

Draco hoped that no one else had noticed his idiotic Gryffindor behaviour.

"Draco. Potter." Snape only looked at Draco, and he said Harry's name as if he had just noticed a particularly disgusting type of vermin in his bathroom.

"Professor McGonagall sent us here," Draco explained. He hoped that his Head of House would look confused and say that he had no idea why she would have sent them there, or that it would take another three months for the antidote to be ready, because Slughorn had messed up.

"The cure for your _situation_ has been ready as of this morning."

The following silence, unmistakeably the sound of their crushed hope, was apparently not what their former Potions Professor had expected. Draco could feel the dark eyes trying to bore into his brain, but he resisted creating eye-contact and kept his gaze firmly on the floor.

"Unfortunately," Snape continued and the sound of his voice told them that he thought that _unfortunately_ was quite the understatement, "it will not free you from each other immediately, but will need to process in your bodies for a maximum of three weeks. If my approximations are right, you will be separated as of the start of next term."

Draco could not stop a sigh of relief from escaping him, but the look in Snape's eyes when he looked up to meet them told him that the man had interpreted it as a sigh of defeat. Draco did not exactly mind the misinterpretation.

"Another three weeks?" Harry asked, as if to make sure that his ears was not fooling him.

"Three weeks, Potter."

The Professor handed them two vials containing a light-green, sparkling potion, and Harry quickly put them in his bag.

"I suggest you mix it into your evening tea." With that he waved them off, returning to the stack of essays he seemed to be grading. The majority of them seemed to have a red T on them.

Probably Gryffindors, Draco thought. Or Hufflepuffs.

-"-

"I'm sorry about Christmas," Harry said as they entered their common room and sank down into the armchairs in front of the fireplace.

They had not said a word since they had left Snape's office, except for when they had decided to skip dinner as neither of them was in the mood for eating, but Draco had a feeling that Harry was just as relieved as he was.

"Christmas?" Draco tore his gaze from the flames and looked at the worried face of the other boy.

"I know you wanted to go home over the holidays, and now you can't."

Draco tried to decide whether he wanted to kiss or punch him over the sheer stupidity in those words, but resisted both. They had not exactly kissed at all except for in the comforting darkness of their dorm, in the middle of the night, after the incident in Hogsmeade a while ago. They never spoke about it either. It was if they had decided to leave those activities to places where they could both pretend it had never happened afterwards.

"I'll manage," Draco answered shortly, refusing to give Harry the pleasure of hearing his relief over not having to be separated just yet, but he regretted his choice of words as soon as he saw the forming crease between Harry's eyebrows. He knew that it meant that the other boy felt either hurt, guilty or uncomfortable. Judging by the situation, it was probably a mixture of the first two.

"It doesn't matter, really," he said quickly. "I mean, this is my last chance to have a Christmas here, but I'll be able to celebrate Christmas at home for the rest of my life."

It was also their first, and only, chance to have a Christmas together, Draco thought, but shook his head quickly to get the thought out of his brain.

"Yeah, that's true." Harry gave him a small, not-convinced smile.

"I only speak the truth. That's one thing you should know about me by now, Potter," Draco smirked and leaned back in his chair, glancing at Harry out of the corner of his eye.

The other boy snorted loudly as he reached for the nearest book and buried his face in it.

"Yeah, also, other equally truthful things I've learned is that Neville has been head-hunted for the national Quidditch team, and Zacharias Smith has started a foundation to support the homeless, pregnant House-Elves of England," Harry deadpanned without looking up from the book in his lap.

"I have more news, Potter. Creepy Creevey had been rewarded with a diploma for his ability to respect other people's privacy, and Slughorn got a special honour-medal for being the most impartial teacher at Hogwarts."

"I'm glad I heard this from a person who only speaks the truth, _Malfoy._ Otherwise I'm not sure I would have believed it." Harry said his last name as if he tried to mimic the way he used to spit it out, but did not quite manage since it was obvious that he was trying his best not to laugh.

"So now, only because I'm such a truthful person, I'm suddenly all Malfoy for you again?" Draco did his best to look hurt, but Harry did not seem to find it very convincing.

"Yes, it has nothing at all to do with you calling me Potter."

"That's completely different, Potter."

"I keep forgetting that there are different rules for you, than for me," Harry snorted and turned page in his book.

"Don't worry, I'll help reminding you," Draco promised and scanned the bunch of parchments next to him for something useful, while Harry only nodded, suddenly absorbed in his book.

Draco tore off a piece of the parchment he had used for remembering the keywords Harry had provided him with for his last essay in Muggle Studies. He wrote: _Don't forget that there are different rules for you, Potter _and turned it over to put a sticky-charm on the other side.

He held the note carefully in his palm, with the sticky side up, and leaned over the cushioned armrest. The usual smell of Harry's shampoo filled his nose when he came closer to the other boy, and Draco did his best to look as if he was trying to sneak a peak of the content of Harry's book.

"What are you reading?" he asked innocently as he tried to get a better hold of the piece of parchment in his hand so that he would be able to smack it onto Harry's chest whenever he got the chance. This would be the perfect constant reminder.

"Just a book about the House-Elves inferiority in our society," Harry answered absentmindedly and turned pages again.

"A gift from Granger?" Draco guessed and scooted a little closer.

"Yeah. She got it for me last Christmas and has been nagging me about it ever since, so I thought it might be a good time to read it. It's actually not that bad…what's that?" Harry suddenly looked up and Draco cursed him for being so observant, as his eyes instantly locked on the piece of parchment in Draco's hand.

"It's just a note," Draco answered vaguely. "So, what's it about?"

"You've already asked me that," Harry said and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why does it look so…sticky?"

"I guess it's because I put a glue-charm on it." Draco made his voice sound as casual as possible.

"That expla…_why did you put a glue-charm on the note?_"

Draco realised that he only had this one chance to operate his attack when Harry started to move away, as he quickly started to understand what was going to happen.

"I don't know really. Maybe so I could stick it to you like this as the constant reminder you asked me for?" Draco said in his best indifferent attempt and smacked the sticky note to the chest of the other boy's white shirt.

Harry looked down on the piece of parchment glued to his clothing and seemed to read the inscription from upside down.

"You did not just…" he said warningly, shifting his body somewhat in the chair. He seemed to change from the immobility of the shock, into something else. It was almost as if he was getting ready to launch himself on Draco, as he braced one hand against the opposite armrest.

"Oh, I think I did," Draco answered more quietly than he had aimed for, but the look in Harry's eyes made his heart beat faster with adrenaline and his fingertips tingle from excitement. He felt as if he had caught the snitch right in front of The-Youngest-Seeker-In-A-Hundred-Years, and was going to pay for it. "Though, I think I should have considered writing upside down, so it would be easier for you to read it. I can write you a new one. I could stick it right next to the other, like a match, you know?"

The smile that spread over Harry's lips was very unlike the uncertain one Draco had seen before – it was almost predator-like in a way that made Draco feel all warm and a little flustered.

As Harry started to inch closer to him, Draco started to scoot backwards to maintain what little space they had between them. His heart was thumping against his ribcage so loudly that it was ringing in his ears, as he stared back at Harry, who was inching forward teasingly slowly.

Draco knew he was doomed, no matter what he did, judging by the look in Harry's eyes. It was not as if he could run away and, even if he could, he was quite certain that Harry would stop him. On the other hand, he could not just keep scooting backwards and wait for the armrest to hit his back, telling him he had to sit there and wait for Harry to make his move, and it was certainly not as if he would ever give up to a Gryffindor without a fight.

Just as Draco decided to get as far away as their linked arms would let him, and moved to sit on the armrest to still keep the armchairs between them as a shield, Harry launched himself on him, knocking them both to the floor.

Draco felt his back hit the soft carpet, and then the firm weight of Harry's body pressing against his own. He glared at the smirking face above him, but he felt as though his body betrayed him as his heart continued to pound so loudly in his chest, that it must be audible even for Harry's ears.

"You know that you could've knocked me dead, if my head had hit the bloody _stone floor_?" Draco did his best to sound accusing, especially since it was almost true. If he had hit the floor, he would surely have gotten a bad concussion at the least.

"Good thing your head hit the carpet, then," Harry answered lowly, and Draco felt the other's breath in hot puffs over his face.

He could feel the warm weight of Harry's body pressing down on his own. He could feel the tickle from the strands of hair whispering over his forehead. He could feel the beating of Harry's heart opposite his.

"Kiss me. Please," he said quietly.

"Are you begging?" Harry pulled back an inch and there was amusement in his eyes. "I thought Malfoys never begged."

"They don't. That was me giving orders politely." Draco found himself smirking.

Harry laughed as he inched closer again. "And who would I be not to obey?"

"Probably some reckless Gryffindor," Draco mumbled as soft lips ghosted over his.

"That would be so unlike me," Harry whispered, as mouth made its way along Draco's jaw.

"Shut up."

"Have you given up on the polite thing already?" The hot puffs from Harry's breath made Draco shiver as teeth found the sensitive skin just below his ear.

"Shut up, _please_," he managed without letting any embarrassing sounds out of his mouth.

He could feel Harry's quiet laughter vibrating through his chest and the smile against his lips, as they finally pressed together.

Draco groaned in spite of himself, and his hand found Harry's neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

It was almost embarrassing how easily Harry could make him like this. It was as though his body was yearning for more attention and every time Harry touched him or kissed him, white-hot electricity shot down his spine, causing him to gasp.

Harry pressed their linked hands into the carpet as he leaned on his elbow to run his free hand down Draco's stomach, who arched into the touch. He was already hard and moaned into their kiss as their hips ground together.

Draco dug his fingers into the thick softness of Harry's hair and opened his mouth willingly for another tongue to enter.

He gasped loudly and arched his back, as Harry's hand palmed him roughly through his trousers, apparently equally desperate. Lips found his neck, sucking and kissing gently over the skin, and Harry's hand moved back over Draco's stomach, unbuttoning the shirt quickly one-handedly to clear the path for his lips.

Draco could feel Harry's heavy breathing over the just-kissed skin and moaned as the wet trail of tongue and lips slowly moved down his exposed chest and stomach.

He arched into the soft, hot kisses as Harry slowly unzipped his trousers and lifted his hips as the other boy pulled them down his thighs along with his underwear. He drew in a deep breath from the sudden rush of cold air against his almost painfully-hard cock.

Draco was panting, supporting himself on his elbows as he watched Harry take the step they had never taken before. He groaned loudly as he felt soft kisses along the inside of his thigh. His eyes begged to fall shut, but he could not resist watching how Harry slowly let his tongue travel along the length of his cock, as if to test the experience.

The moan got stuck in Draco's throat, leaving him with his mouth falling open and eyes fluttering shut, shivering from the new sensation of a soft tongue over his pulsating dick.

"_Oh,_" he groaned as he felt the wetness of Harry's mouth taking in the head, sucking gently before slowly taking in more. "_Yes._"

Draco fell back against the carpet, surrendering to the warm, wet sensation of Harry taking his cock into his mouth, deeper every time.

"Don't stop," he pleaded. "Please don't stop."

He heard Harry moan; he _felt_ Harry moan around his cock. The vibrations caused him to arch his back involuntarily, pushing all the way into Harry's warm mouth.

Draco almost screamed as the new feeling came crashing over him, sending him over the edge. He did not even have a chance to warn Harry as he came so hard that the world almost blackened in front of his eyes.

He heard Harry moan again as his body slowly relaxed against the carpet. His free hand pushed the hair from Harry's damp forehead, and he sighed contentedly as warm lips found his.

As he opened his eyes, he had to blink a couple of times to clear his blurry vision, and he was met by a soft smile, before Harry's lips met his again.

"I'm sorry I didn't warn you," Draco mumbled between the kisses and stroked the damp hair at the back of Harry's neck.

"Doesn't matter."

"Want me to help you out?" It was not as if he was feeling guilty for leaving Harry there without any assistance, but merely him being polite.

"I took care of it," Harry answered and gave him a lopsided smile before kissing him once more.

"Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy. Your evening tea, sirs."

Harry flew to his feet with a yelp, yanking their linked arms painfully, as Draco somehow managed to quickly pull his underwear and trousers up with one hand, both staring in horror at the tiny House-Elf with a small tray in her hands. The two steaming cups of tea was not exactly what Draco would prefer right now. An intruding House-Elf definitely was not either.

"Tea?" Harry asked in confusion, while trying to button the last few buttons on his shirt.

"Mr Snape is advising Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy to mix the potion with their evening tea. Guppy is only here to bring the tea, sirs." Guppy, the bloody elf, curtsied before putting down the tray on the nearest table and disappearing with a loud crack.

"I wonder what she saw," Harry mumbled, still staring at the spot where the House-Elf had vanished seconds ago.

"I don't really want to think about that." Draco sank back against the carpet once more in defeat, with his arm dangling awkwardly in the air between him and Harry's standing form. A House-Elf turning up with tea was not really the ending he had had in mind for the best experience he had ever had.

"She won't tell anyone if she did, will she?" Harry asked, sounding a little worried as he tucked his shirt back in his trousers.

"Are you kidding me? House-Elves gossip worse than Hufflepuffs," Draco groaned and got to his feet as Harry tugged on his arm.

"Hufflepuffs gossip?"

"Yeah. Don't you listen to the Sorting Hat? _Hufflepuffs won't do for anything but spreading gossip around the school," _Draco said as if he was quoting.

"Yeah, I can imagine that those were the exact words it used," Harry snorted and pulled the two vials they had been given by Snape from his bag. "Are you ready?"

The atmosphere felt almost sad as those words left Harry's slightly swollen lips. Draco wanted to kiss him again and throw the vials out the window, but he knew that it was out of the question. Instead, he nodded, and he was sure he felt Harry squeeze harder around his wrist, as if to reassure him that it would all go well.

Bloody Gryffindor.

As Draco poured the potions into the separate cups, Harry stirred, and they watched the tea turn into something that looked more like liquid diamonds than the brownish colour it had before.

"Cheers, then," Harry said quietly and handed one cup to Draco before grabbing his own. "For three weeks left."

"For three weeks left," Draco repeated in a whisper and gulped down the potion-mixed tea as fast as he could, afraid that he would not do it if he waited too long. It tasted like the summer rain at the manor he had done his best to drink during his childhood summers, walking around on the fields with his mouth open whenever it rained. He put his cup back on the tray, and he watched Harry swallow the last of his own.

Draco looked down, suddenly overwhelmed by separation anxiety.

He blinked. Stared. Blinked again. Stared.

"What's this?" he snapped and pointed towards the piece of parchment that was firmly attached to his shirt.

"It's a note," Harry answered calmly, but Draco could see the laughter loom in the corners of his mouth.

"I can see that _it's a note_. Why is _the note_ on my shirt?" He did not know if the worst part was Harry getting back at him with his own trick, or that he had not even noticed when Harry had stuck it there.

"I thought you might need a reminder every now and then." Harry shrugged with the most innocent look on his face that Draco had ever seen.

The bloody Gryffindor was such a Slytherin.

"A reminder of what?"

"Have you read it?"

Draco looked down on the note again. Of course, unlike the one he had put on Harry's shirt, it was put upside down so he could read it easily.

_Gryffindors tend to break the rules they are given, Malfoy. _

**Chapter end notes: **So...christmas is up next and a lot more of friends and (perhaps?) family. Well, that's my plan! Thank you for reading x_  
_


	15. Your lips are blue

**A/N: **I just wanted to thank you all for proving that you still read this story, even though it took me a good two months, if not more, to publish the latest chapter. You truly are amazing and thank you so much for all the amazing reviews I've received.

As I said before, we're getting closer and closer to the end of this story. Such a bittersweet feeling, really. Someone asked me if I could give the estimated amount of chapters left, and I'd say that there's probably two-three, maybe even four left. It all depends on how long I decide to make the chapters, I guess.

Someone also asked me if I plan on writing another story after Glued is finished. And _yes,_ I do. I have a story pretty much figured out, but it'll be a lot of work and I'm not sure I have the energy to get started with it right away. I also have a few one-shots that I plan on publishing here as soon as they're finished.

Also, there are a few people I'd like to thank a little extra before you continue to read the chapter:

for a really sweet review that made me want to write better and faster than ever before.

_Chucktastic _for a bunch of amazing reviews, that made me so very happy.

_gbheart _for being the best beta ever. Thank you, girl!

_FalsettoSlumber _for actually texting her friend, telling her that this chapter was about to get published and for an amazingly sweet review.

_And to all of you, that are still here, waiting patiently for my next update. _

By the way, I have to show you. I got this picture from my friend the other day with the words: HAHAHAHA this is just like Glued! After I looked at the picture, I have to agree: everythingharrypotter(dot)tumblr(dot)com/post/8468954209/living-death-george-did-you-end-up-taking-a

OH RIGHT! I almost forgot: someone asked me if I have twitter. And I do, the link is on my profile! This way, you'll be able to enjoy my silliness through live updates. Awesome, huh? ;)

Well now, enjoy the chapter!

**CHAPTER 16 – YOUR LIPS ARE BLUE**

They were sitting at the Gryffindor table, eating their lunch accompanied by Granger and Weasel. Harry had suggested that they would sit with the Slytherins for once, since they usually chose the company of his two friends whenever they decided to eat in the Great Hall. Draco had declined when he saw Blaise look away as soon as their eyes connected for a fraction of a second. It was obvious that Draco's former best friend did not fancy his company for dinner any time soon.

He was disappointed, of course. Even Weasel seemed to start to accept the fact that his best friend had accidentally been glued to their enemy. Weasel, who was quite known for having trouble accepting anything that involved Harry getting more attention than he usually did, handled the situation better than a Slytherin. Blaise should be ashamed of himself.

Since the last Hogsmeade trip, Pansy had come along quite nicely and even greeted Potter anytime she saw them in the corridors or in class. They had had lunch with her just yesterday, but the empty chair next to her was a constant reminder of Blaise's absence.

"So, you're staying over the holidays, then?" Ron asked, surprisingly directing the question to both of them. Draco had a feeling that Granger had something to do with that.

"Yeah," Harry confirmed and nodded as he wiped his fingers on a napkin. "They said three more weeks, and it's only been a few days, so we'll be separated in time for the next term."

Draco noticed the shade of nervousness that flickered over the other boy's face, just as his stomach made an uncomfortable lurch. He tried desperately not to think about what would happen as soon as this Siamese-twins-type thing was over.

"Mum's going to be devastated," Weasel said without sounding too sorry over his mother's possible heartbreak.

"I know," Harry said quietly. "But she'll understand, right?"

"Of course she'll understand," Granger promised and sent Weasel a warning look.

"Of course," Weasel repeated dutifully. "I think she's going to worry more over your too low intake of sweets when she's not there to stuff them down your throat, mate."

"Ron!" Granger burst out reproachfully.

"What? I always wonder if she's mistaken me for the christmas pig, the way she feeds me whenever I'm home." Weasel shrugged and exchanged a grin with Harry over the table.

Draco could not help but smile behind his cup of tea. The Golden Trio was complete once more.

"That's because she wants to show you how much loves you when you're actually home, " Granger said, but sounded as if she had already given up on getting the other two to understand.

"I hope she loves me enough next year not to cook me up for dinner," Weasel snorted and Harry laughed.

"Ron!" Another female voice forced its way into their bubble of conversation. As Draco looked up, he saw the Weaslette standing a few feet away with her arms crossed across her chest.

"Oh, hi, Ginny." Weasel did his best to look bored, it seemed, but the corners of his mouth still twitched a little, as if he was still thinking about the successful joke he had just made.

"Have you packed?" The tone of her voice made it clear that she already knew that he had not.

"Er, no. I was just about to –" Weasel started, pretending as though he did not see the blaming look he got from Granger.

Draco, on the other hand, noticed how the Weaslette seemed to look anywhere but in her ex-boyfriend's direction. Harry had said that she usually pretended as if he did not exist, but Draco had never thought that he had meant it so literally.

Weasleys apparently had their issues with handling their emotions, Draco decided, as he watched the siblings bicker about the fact that Weasel never seemed to be able to pack in time for _anything._

Times like these, Draco was quite happy that he was an only child.

"You're okay staying here on your own then?" Granger asked with a worried frown on her face, as she turned to face Harry, who quickly looked up from his food.

"I'm not on my own. Draco will be here, too," Harry said as if she had gone blind, or stupid, or both.

She blushed a little and shot an apologetic look to Draco across the table.

"Yes, of course. I keep forgetting that. But you're okay with staying here for christmas, with...Draco?" She acted like Draco's mum did whenever he was about to return to Hogwarts after the summer. So overprotective and worried sick about everything.

"I promise that he'll be in one piece when you return, Granger," Draco cut in. He felt Harry squeeze his wrist a little tighter under the table.

"I don't take promises lightly," she said gravely, and Draco could hear the warning undertone in her words.

"Neither do I," he answered simply and looked up just in time to see the Weaslette's angry face staring back at him.

He had never liked her, even though she was a very pretty girl and was said to be very smart, he had always felt as though she had an unhealthy adoration for Harry. The fact that she seemed to worship the ground The Chosen One walked on had bothered him earlier because he saw no reason whatsoever to praise Gryffindor's Golden Boy in any way. He disliked it now because he saw competition in her.

He wondered absent-mindedly if she knew or suspected anything, as he turned away, pretending as if she was not present. He knew that Granger did. She probably knew more than she let on, but her disguised threat to him had said enough, just as her being scarily observant at the Quidditch game weeks ago.

Weasel probably had enough with accepting the fact that his best friend was stuck with Draco Malfoy to even notice anything else. What the rest of the school thought, Draco had no clue.

An elbow in his ribs took him swiftly back to reality and Harry's accusing look.

"What?" he asked.

"I was wishing you a Merry Christmas, since we'll be leaving for the train station soon and Ron has to pack first," Granger said. Her face had softened somewhat into a small smile.

Draco was stricken with surprise for a few seconds, before his parents' strict upbringing made him smile back.

"Merry Christmas."

The widening smile he got in return was worth the fact that he had just genuinely smiled to Granger, a muggleborn know-it-all whom he had detested since he had seen her bushy hair and large front teeth the first time.

Draco watched as they left him and Harry by themselves in the Great Hall.

"So, how long do you think it'll take them to confess to each other that they're in love?"

"What?" Harry spluttered his pumpkin juice all over his plate in surprise, before he quickly looked after his departing friends.

"Yeah, it's quite obvious, don't you think? The way the nag each other crazy, every time I see them, makes it kind of easy to tell." Draco absent-mindedly handed him a napkin to wipe his chin with.

"They nag because they act stupid around one another. They always have, since first year." It was quite obvious that Harry did not believe him.

"They act Gryffindor, which is, I admit, basically the same thing."

Harry, as usual, only snorted in reply.

-"-

"Have you wrapped your gifts yet?" Draco asked as they sat down in front of the fireplace, a mere hour later. He knew the answer to his question, of course, but he was tired of the silence.

Harry was half-laying in the armchair next to him, with his legs stretched out so far in front of him that he was on the verge of slipping off the seat, and the back of his head resting against the backrest. He had his eyes closed, but Draco knew that he was not sleeping.

"No, but I should, though." Harry sighed and flexed his feet until the joints cracked loudly in disapproval.

"Come on then." Draco pulled slightly at their linked hands and Harry groaned in disapproval.

"_Now_?" he pouted and opened one eye to give Draco a look that clearly questioned his sanity.

"It has to be done by tomorrow, you know. I'd rather get to lie-in then and enjoy the first day of our holidays, than get up really early to do it in the morning," Draco explained. "I have a feeling you do, too," he added, when he saw the look on Harry's face.

"Fine," the other boy muttered as he forced himself up from his comfortable seating.

Draco had always found it childishly entertaining to wrap christmas gifts, and this year was no exception. Harry, on the other hand, seemed to consider it a severe punishment and to be of the opinion that gift-wrapping had been invented to cover the gift, not to be pretty on its own.

_Well, Harry's gifts certainly were not. _

Draco worked through his pile of gifts quite quickly, but, as he suddenly held Blaise's book in his hand, he paused. Harry looked up and watched the book intensely, as if he just wanted to memorise the cover before it would be someone else's possession.

Draco hesitated before he pushed the book towards Harry over the table.

"Here. I can wrap it last. Read it in the meantime."

"Really?" Harry asked in surprise, but took the book carefully in his hands and caressed the cover with his fingertips.

"Yeah." Draco only nodded, because the other boy was already lost in the book, flipping through pages carefully with the tip of his index-finger and thumb, as if he thought they might break if he turned them too swiftly.

After watching Harry read the book in deep concentration for a while, Draco returned to wrapping the rest of the gifts and writing short Christmas Greetings. He had to put a Silencing Charm on the speaking crystal ball when it refused to shut up, singing christmas carols louder and louder with every verse.

Draco turned his gaze to the frost-rimmed window with an internal sigh. The darkness outside made the picture of him and Harry, sitting by the table with a mountain of Christmas gifts around them, reflect clearly in the glass. Harry's teeth covered over his bottom lip as the tip of his nose almost touched the pages of the book, as he leaned even closer towards the pictures of Quidditch teams.

His hair was its usual, unruly mess, with a few strands caught among the pages, and the glasses seemed to be on the verge of slipping off his nose. Harry did not seem to be aware of anything but the contents of the book.

Draco felt a soft tug in his mid-section, and a gentle smile crept on his lips as a comfortable warmth spread through his stomach, like hot chocolate on a sunday morning.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't realise you were finished with the others. Here." Harry's voice brought him back from their reflection and to the book that was pushed across the table, if ever so reluctantly, towards him.

"You can read for a few more minutes if you like. I have to write to my mother." Draco pulled out a piece of parchment and made sure that Harry was, once again, deeply consumed by the book, before he started his letter. It was short and not exactly the true words he wanted to share with her.

_Mother,_

_I hope you and Father are well. As Professor Snape surely has told you, I will not be able to return home for Christmas due to the impact lag of the potion which will separate me from Harry. _

_Also, I wish to ask a favour from you. The book I intended to give Blaise as a Christmas Gift has not yet arrived and since I cannot travel to Hogsmeade before Christmas, I hope you will be able to find him something. _

_Merry Christmas,_

_Draco_

-"-

Draco rolled over on his side in an attempt to escape the irritating rays of sun that flickered over his face. He was not ready to wake up completely just yet. As he turned, he accidentally bumped into Harry's bare shoulder and snuggled closer, only half-aware of his own actions.

The other boy felt so warm against him, and he sighed contentedly as fingers gently stroked his hair.

"Merry Christmas," Harry said softly, but Draco only closed his eyes tighter. "You know, the gifts arrived a while ago, but I thought you might appreciate the extra hours of sleep."

"How considerate," Draco muttered and did his best to ignore the whispering touch of Harry's fingertips dancing over his face, neck and shoulder. As the tickling sensation slowly found its way to his side, Draco jerked and drew his arms close to his body to prevent Harry's fingers from getting access to his ribs.

He opened his eyes to glare at the other boy, who greeted him with a innocent smile.

"Merry Christmas," Harry repeated as he sat up, as if he had been waiting for Draco to open his eyes for ages.

"Really? First you decide to tickle me, and then you wish me a Merry Christmas?" Draco did not sound nearly as threatening as he wanted to.

"Yes," Harry said simply and tugged at their linked hands to get Draco to sit up.

"You're so annoying," Draco groaned, as he pulled himself up into a sitting position. As usual, the not-very-serious insult did not seem to bother Harry in the least.

Draco's eyes were immediately drawn to the pair of gift-mountains at the foot of the bed. The pile on his side was without a doubt the bigger one, but Harry seemed thrilled none the less.

"I feel like five years old again," Harry said and started to grab the gifts, squeezing them in his hands or simply shaking them, obviously trying to figure out what their contents were.

"I always feel like you're five years old," Draco muttered in an attempt to pretend that he was still feeling a little insulted for being awakened by force. Though a smile tugged the corners of his mouth as he watched the boy next to him behave so unrestrainedly for once. The weight of fame had somehow lifted from his shoulders for a little while.

Harry snorted and glanced towards Draco's gifts, laying still untouched.

"Aren't you going to open them?"

"Of course I am. Are you trying to shake yours out of the wrapping?" Draco laughed and ducked, as Harry threw a very soft-looking gift at him. It landed soundlessly on the floor beneath the bed.

Draco started to unwrap the gifts one by one and was met by the usual book-packages from distant relatives and the occasional pair of gloves made from dragon skin. There was a very formal gift from Blaise, containing a box of sweets and the latest, mass-produced book about the European Quidditch teams. At least, Draco was now sure that he had made the right decision the night before.

"This one's got no name on it, and I've already had gifts from the people I usually get gifts from," Harry said suddenly. "Maybe it's yours."

Draco looked up only to see a very familiar present in Harry's hands. He had wrapped it the night before, but had decided not to write neither Harry's or his own name on it.

"It was in your pile. I doubt the house-elves would make a mistake like that," he answered and tried to keep his voice indifferent.

"Yeah, okay." Harry shrugged and unwrapped the gift slowly.

Draco held his breath as the worn leather cover of _Quidditch: The Comprehensive Guide_ fell out of the paper and onto the bed.

Harry stared shamelessly at the book for a few moments, before he turned his gaze to Draco. The green eyes were wide and questioning, as if they half-expected Draco to take the book back and explain that there must have been a mistake after all.

"Really?" Harry asked finally. His voice was a little rough, as though his throat was dry.

"Yeah." Draco nodded and let a smug smile spread across his lips as Harry slowly picked up the book and weighed it in his hands.

He watched the other boy's fingers trace the outlines of the faded golden letters on the cover before slowly opening the book.

"Wow...I..." Harry began and looked up to meet Draco's eyes. "I don't...This is...But I thought...Blaise..."

"Just say thanks." Draco rolled his eyes, but inside his heart skipped a couple of beats over the other boy's sudden loss for words.

"Thanks," Harry breathed and leaned forward without a warning to brush his lips against Draco's.

It was nothing but a simple kiss, but it still left Draco's heart fluttering like a snitch in his chest. He cleared his throat, not completely sure why his face was burning.

"Breakfast?"

-"-

The Great Hall was nearly empty. Five students, except for Draco and Harry, were sitting around the table, accompanied by the Professors and the Headmaster.

The Slytherin first year stared as if her life depended on it, but the others kept their eyes to anything but the Seventh Year former enemies who accidentally got glued to each other.

The whole school knew by now, of course, but the corridors were usually so clammed with people that few had gotten the chance to see the phenomenon with their own eyes.

Draco would do everything in his power to get that first year in detention at least once, before the school year had ended.

As he looked up after a hopeless attempt to stare down the girl, he met Harry's smile.

"It's Christmas, Draco. Behave," he said lightly, but Draco had a feeling that the other boy wanted to laugh at his irritation.

"Her parents should have raised her better. I'm not a circus-freak." He scowled at the little girl with mousy pigtails and curious freckles on her nose. She, quite obviously, did not receive the message he was trying to send her.

Harry just shook his head in defeat and returned to his treacle tart.

The teachers spoke among themselves, discussing the latest news and another hugely interesting book from Nicholas Flamel, who apparently had written something about dying after centuries of an eternal life. Draco had the feeling that they were avoiding inviting him and Harry into the discussion, to save them from more attention than necessary. On the other hand, he felt a little left out from the Christmas warmth the rest of the table seemed to share.

He laughed along with the others as a pair of Hufflepuffs pulled a cracker together and discovered, after the blue smoke had disappeared, a pair of fake wands that exploded in their face as soon as they pointed them towards each other.

He was awarded with another staring competition with the Slytherin first year and sighed in defeat as she missed her mouth with a piece of her flaming christmas pudding, setting one of her pigtails on fire.

A cough, sounding suspiciously like a laugh, from his left, caused him to look at Harry, who was biting the inside of his cheek in a desperate attempt to keep a straight face.

"Can we just get out of here?" Draco muttered as McGonagall hurried towards the screaming girl.

"Good idea," Harry nodded, and they stood quickly before half walking – half running – as fast as they could, out of the Great Hall.

The cold outside hit them like a wall of ice, as soon as they entered the courtyard. It was not snowing, but the ground was covered in a soft, white blanket. Draco felt slightly bad when their feet crunched through the untouched snow as they made their way towards the Quidditch pitch.

"Are you cold?" Harry asked, when Draco failed to suppress a shiver as an icy wind ripped through his clothes. They had forgotten all about gloves and scarves, covered only by their winter cloaks.

Draco shook his head and felt Harry give his wrist a squeeze, before they stepped out on the pitch. It was weird, seeing it so empty and abandoned. The only time the pitch was used, outside of a match, was during practice and it was the air that was usually occupied by several players on brooms. But now, there was nothing but complete silence and the two of them.

He noticed, out of the corner of his eye, how Harry bent down to touch the snow. As he let his gaze travel across the field, the stands and the ring-shaped goals, he felt an excited tug in his stomach. Soon, he would be able to fly again. To play Quidditch again.

"Hey," Harry said softly and nudged their linked hands.

When Draco turned his head to look at him, he was met by a handful of wet, cold snow, all over his face.

He heard Harry laugh as he tried to blink the flakes from his eyes, wiping his face clean with the sleeve of his robe.

Slowly, he turned towards Harry, who was still laughing louder and louder, looking ridiculously good with red cheeks from the cold and laughter glittering in his eyes.

"I hate you," he snarled and glared at the Gryffindor, who seemed to be having the time of his life.

"No, you don't," Harry stated with a wide smile and bent down to grab another handful of snow.

There was no use trying to run from someone who was glued to you, Draco realised, and did not even consider it an option. Instead, he pulled hard on their linked hands just as Harry leaned forward to scoop up some more snow in his hand, causing the other boy to fall flat on his face.

Draco could not help but laugh as the other boy managed to sit back up on his knees, spluttering snow, as he shook the white cold from his hair.

"Now _I_ hate you," the Gryffindor muttered, but his smirk told Draco not to believe him. He was just about to come with a snide retort when a hard yank on his arm caused him to fall handlessly only a few inches from Harry.

Just as he managed to turn to his back, face stinging from the freezing snow that melted on his skin, warm lips captured his before he even had the chance to hex Harry's ears off.

At first, he struggled to get free, still feeling slightly humiliated over the fact that Harry, once again, had used his own trick against him. But as Harry's free hand effectively held Draco's pressed down at his side and his lips parted slightly to let the tip of his tongue slowly trace Draco's lips, he melted into the kiss with a soft whimper.

Harry's body pressed against his and, as Draco finally managed to wrestle his hand free from Harry's grasp, he pulled them even closer together, knitting his hand in the black tousled hair.

"You will get a cold," Harry mumbled as their lips parted for a couple of moments, so they could catch their breaths.

"Don't care." Draco pulled him closer again, desperate to get rid of the distance between them. He let his cold fingers slip underneath the collar of the other boy's collar and felt him shiver, not completely sure if it was from his icy hand or the touch alone.

He could feel Harry's hot breath whisper over his cold skin as the other boy's lips slowly made their way right beneath his ear. His eyes fluttered shut as he bit his lip to prevent any sounds from escaping his mouth.

If anyone saw them, Draco did not care, nor did Harry it seemed as he once more crushed their lips together.

It was freezing cold, but Draco did not want to stop. His free hand shook slightly as it came to rest on the Gryffindor's neck, the other was helplessly numb from being covered in snow for too long.

"Your hands are shaking," Harry said, once again stating the obvious. It did not annoy Draco as much as it used to.

"Shut up," he mumbled instead and tried to catch Harry's lips once more, but the other boy pulled away with a concerned frown.

"You'll get sick. Come on. Let's go."

Oh, how Draco hated Harry's hero-complex more than usual at times.

"Don't go all Gryffindor on me," he groaned and grabbed the red-golden-striped tie to pull the other boy back to him.

Harry only chuckled and managed to get to his feet without looking completely ridiculous, as Draco was forced to let go of the tie. He pulled Draco up with him, earning a glare for his efforts. They were quiet as they made their way back to the castle and their own common room. Draco was secretly quite thankful for Harry's determination to get back inside, because as the blood slowly started to make its way back to his brain, he realised that his clothes were soaking wet from the melting snow and his body was shivering from the cold. He bit down hard to prevent his teeth from chattering as they placed their linked hands on the wall in front of them. It was not like Harry needed another boost to his ego for, yet again, making the right decision.

As soon as the arch closed behind them again, Harry turned towards him, scrutinising him carefully.

"Your lips are blue," he said quietly, and the crease between his eyebrows told Draco that he was blaming himself for this.

He did his best attempt to snort, but the cold made his lips tremble, and he had a feeling that Harry did not find him very convincing, as he got a raised eyebrow in response.

"Let's get you out of these clothes."

And before Draco could do anything to stop him, Harry had started undressing him one-handedly. It was slow, but Draco did not mind. He savoured in the look of high concentration on the other boy's face and the determination in those remarkable eyes. Harry slowly removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, one button at a time, lightly stroking the newly exposed skin with his index-finger before moving on to the next.

Draco shivered for a completely different reason now, and closed his eyes to let the sensation of Harry's soft hands on his body shoot like electricity from where they connected, directly to his groin.

He whimpered quietly as a strong hand tugged the belt from his trousers and gentle fingertips slowly ran along the waistband, before undoing his fly.

A soft hand travelled upward his torso, pushing the shirt off his shoulders, as Harry murmured the spell that opened up the sleeves of their linked arms. Velvety lips brushed over his for a second, but were gone just as Draco was about to respond to the kiss. He obediently stepped out of his trousers and underwear when Harry pushed them down his legs, with heart pounding in his chest and fingertips tingling from anticipation. The fact that he was standing completely naked, exposed to Harry's gaze, hardening rapidly with each shallow breath, did not even bother him.

"Hot shower?"

It was something in Harry's voice when he said the two words that made Draco open his eyes and forget his ice-cold body. As he took in Harry's form, with eyes raking over the other boy's naked body and lingering for a heartbeat on his erection, there was only one possible answer to that question in his mind.

He nodded, throat dry, and followed Harry into the bathroom. As his eyes travelling over that body once more, he trailed half a step behind him, taking in the full view of Harry's toned back, and swallowed thickly as his gaze stuck to that perfect arse.

It felt different this time. Not at all the same rushed, desperate need of closeness and body contact as before. His whole body was yearning and a soft groan escaped him as Harry pushed him with his back up against the cold tiles, before pressing their feverish bodies together.

For a moment they just looked at one another, sharing their heavy breaths. Then Harry reached out and turned the taps, drenching them both in water.

Their lips crashed together and Draco felt his cock twitch as Harry moaned into his mouth. He grabbed a handful of black, tousled hair and parted his lips to deepen the kiss.

A moan rolled over his lips as Harry drew back to catch a breath and ground their hips together, rubbing his erection against Draco's.

"_Yes_," Draco hissed as Harry repeated the motion and pushed back against him. The friction shot like white-hot sparks along his spine, and his eyes fluttered shut.

Hot puffs of rapid breaths against his ear made him shiver, just as teeth found his earlobe. He let go of Harry's hair and got a satisfied groan in return, as he grabbed the other boy's arse, increasing the friction between them even further.

"Draco," Harry whispered breathlessly just before their swollen lips locked once more, and his hand found its way into the little space between them, slowly squeezing down the length of Draco's cock.

"_Oh, Merlin." _Had Harry not had him pressed against the tiles, Draco's knees would surely had given in right there. He was panting heavily, kissing the other boy fiercely, as a determined hand stroked his pulsating dick painfully slow.

"I want you." Harry's voice was husky with need and forced Draco opened his eyes.

His heart was beating frantically, and his brain could not entirely comprehend what Harry had just said. He had been thinking about it, of course, going all the way, having Harry inside him, or being inside Harry, yet the words still took him slightly by surprise.

Harry met his gaze with eyes darker, more ravenous, than Draco had seen them before. His lips were slightly parted, kiss-swollen, and his dark hair was plastered to his forehead by the water.

And Draco realised that he was aching for him, for Harry. Needing him just the same.

"Yes," he answered finally, voice a little rough from more thinking than speaking, as a flicker of doubt started to show in the other boy's face.

They stumbled, tangled in each other, back to their dorm, still kissing and Draco let out a moan just as they fell down on the bed, with Harry on top of him. He did not even care that they were ruining the sheets with their wet bodies.

Harry's lips travelled along his jaw and Draco arched, moaning into his touch as the other boy's hand slowly stroked down the length of his cock once. He grabbed the sheets under him with his free hand, trying to maintain the little self-control he still had left, as a strong hand gently spread his legs wider.

The thrill of being completely exposed to Harry – who seemed to force his gaze away from Draco's eyes to take in his naked body, his arousal and, while biting his lip, let his gaze travel even lower – was overwhelming.

Their eyes met once more, and Draco whimpered as Harry murmured a spell, covering his fingers in something slick. He was shivering from anticipation as Harry crushed their lips together in another kiss before gently, hesitantly pushing fingers into him.

Draco hissed as he stretched uncomfortably around the other boy's fingers, but stopped caring when the fingertips brushed against a spot inside him that made him shudder helplessly and let out a moan.

"_Fuck_," he managed and bit his lip hard to stop himself from screaming, as Harry found that spot with his fingers once more. He gripped the sheets harder, almost pulling them from the bed, with his free hand, and closed his eyes to surrender completely to the sensation.

Just as his body relaxed around the fingers, when Draco was already moaning incoherently, pushing back against them, Harry decided to pull them back.

Draco opened his eyes to meet Harry's, their bodies damp from sweat. He whimpered as the Gryffindor leaned over him to plant a soft kiss on his lips, before slowly pushing into him.

It burned and stretched even more uncomfortably than before, but the look on Harry's face above him, with eyes fluttering shut and mouth slightly falling open in a silent moan, made him forget how to breathe.

He could feel Harry move out slowly, before gently pushing into him, and gasped as he hit that sweet spot again.

"_Yes, oh god yes_," he managed and pushed back against Harry, eager to get more of him, completely ignoring the burning feeling.

Before he knew it, he was shuddering uncontrollably again, moaning for every time Harry pushed inside him with an obvious determination to hit that spot over, and over again, leaving Draco delirious and panting, reaching for his own erection.

His eyes fell shut just as he stroked down the length of his cock, hearing Harry moan above him again.

"Draco," Harry groaned as he pushed inside him again, always deeper than before. "_Oh fuck, Draco." _

Draco saw white. He stroked himself faster, mimicking Harry's pace with his own hand, arching from the bed to force Harry deeper inside him. Needing more of him. As the felt the familiar tingling along his spine, his body clenched uncontrollably, toes curling almost painfully and he came hard over his hand and stomach, with his scream stuck in his throat.

He felt Harry freeze and shudder inside him. He heard him moan, before collapsing on top of Draco, covering him in his warm weight.

He snaked his free arm around Harry, slowly tracing his spine with his fingertips, up and down.

He felt so content, satisfied. Just as he was on the border to drift off to sleep, he heard Harry say something and mumbled something in return, thinking they could clear that up in the morning.

-"-

It was still dark when Draco opened his eyes. He felt different, for some reason. Even though the memories of last night stayed in his mind like crystal clear images of something that was far better than he had ever expected, he was sure that it was not reason to why he felt different.

With a yawn, he turned to his side, finding that Harry must have cleaned them both up and moved off of him sometime after Draco had fallen asleep. The Gryffindor was lying with his back to him, apparently in deep, peaceful sleep as his deep breaths broke the silence in an even rythm.

Draco stretched out his arms over his head, knitting his fingers together before rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with his hands.

And then he froze.

Without looking, he slowly let his left hand examine his right, down his wrist, to his elbow and back again. But there was nothing else but his own skin, except from the usual, slightly scarred tissue that was his Dark Mark.

Heart in his throat, he turned to look at Harry, who still slept peacefully a couple of feet away, and then back to his own arm.

They must have been separated sometime during sleep, Draco realised, but his heart did not stop beating violently. The panic was closing in on him rapidly.

He was not prepared for this. What were they supposed to do now? Go back to their separate common rooms, walk together to class, make out in dark corridors after curfew? No.

The lump in his throat was too big to swallow, but he kept trying, eyes stuck to the head full of tousled dark hair on the other side of the bed. Something stung inside his chest.

He knew that something like that was never going to happen. The Chosen One with an ex-Death Eater? Draco knew better than that, even if his heart refused to.

"Harry," he whispered with a voice far more shattered than he thought it would be. "Wake up."

But Harry only sighed contentedly, shifting a little, clearly remaining asleep.

They had not even talked about this, what they were going to do when they were finally separated – What this between them should be labeled as – because they were not supposed to be separated for another week, or perhaps even longer. Draco did not even know how Harry really felt, because they never spoke of things like that.

Because they only _were_. No labels attached.

And what if Harry awoke within a couple of hours, announcing that he was leaving and wanted nothing to do with Draco anymore? What other option did they have?

He cursed under his breath, hearing the tears in his voice before he felt them leave his eyes.

Because Draco was in love with Harry fucking Potter. The Gryffindor Golden Boy. The Wizarding World's Saviour. The Chosen One.

So he decided to do the only thing he knew how to do.

On unsteady legs, he climbed off the bed and grabbed the first shirt and pair of trousers he came across in his trunk. With tears still threatening to fall, he pulled them on, fingers shaking as he buttoned the shirt. He squared his shoulders in false determination, refusing to look back on the sleeping form in their bed because he knew he would never be able to leave if he did.

And he had to. He had to leave because he knew he would never be able to watch Harry's back as he would leave the following morning. This was the only way; the only thing that would change would be the person left behind.

He did his best to ignore the pile of yesterday's clothing, but he could almost feel how Harry's index-finger had stroked his skin as he unbuttoned Draco's shirt before leaving it there on the floor.

His hands trembled, as if the surpressed sobs were trying to find a way out, and he shoved them in his pockets, hiding them from his own eyes. Something small and solid grazed his knuckle, and he pulled it out for his over-flowing eyes to examine.

A sob finally managed to rip itself free from his throat, as he recognized the small, white square in his palm. It was the Z he had once stolen from their game of Scrabble, weeks ago. But he still refused to cry, forcing himself to remember that Malfoys did not cry.

He shoved it back in his pocket, hurrying across the floor to the arch. It felt a lot heavier than he remembered as he pushed it open. He almost wished it would not budge, so that he would not have a choice but stay, but it did.

The corridor on the other side was dark and abandoned. He shivered from the cold and held his breath as he took a step forward on bare feet. Then another.

A low, confused "Draco?" ripped through the silence like an earth quake, just as the arch swung shut behind him.

And Draco started to run, wondering if that was the sound of a heart breaking.

* * *

**Chapter end notes: **Oh no...what have you done, Draco?


	16. So did you tell him you love him yet?

**A/N: **I know I said there would be at least two more chapters, but I realised, while writing this – that the last chapter would be extremely short if I would divide the remaining events into two chapters. Therefore, this is the very last one. Glued has officially come to an end. And I do feel quite sad.

You have all been so very amazing during this journey and I am so happy for all the alerts, favs and reviews you have given me due to this story alone.

I've grown much as an author, my english has become so, so, so much better and I'm so thankful for all the support you have given me.

This story has been a much bigger success than I could have ever expected it to be. I have, as of now, 516 reviews. Five hundred and sixteen. That's quite insane.

It also has 640 Story Alerts on Glued. Along with 362 favourites. Say whaaaaat? That's crazy! Thank you so much. My ego is insanely big right now and also a little fragile, since I hope this last chapter will live up to your expectations. I would be so disappointed in myself if you would feel let down by this last chapter.

I hope you like it.

Also, as I publish this chapter I will also publish the prologue to my new story: Keeping up with the Malfoys. In case you would like to keep reading stories by me, that's where you should go! I'm quite happy with how it has progressed so far.

So...this is my very last A/N for Glued. How strange. For a while I felt like this story was never going to end and now we're there. Thanks for staying with me. This chapter is for ALL of you. All. of. You. No exceptions.

I'm so grateful for everything that you have given me. You guys are the best, without a doubt._ Here goes..._

* * *

**CHAPTER 16 - SO DID YOU TELL HIM YOU LOVE HIM YET?  
**

_Our nights are over,_

_There's just a long flight home_

_The last touch in the morning is forever gone_

_Oh baby, I want to hold you once again_

_It will never be the same. _

_Tomorrow's waiting_

_it's time for me to go_

_You don't have to say a thing_

_'cause we will always know_

_Oh baby, we were lovers with a smile_

_We had it all for a little while_

_Never again will I look into your eyes,_

_Never again_

_- Never again – Tomas Ledin _

Draco was not sure of how many sunrises he had seen since he had returned to the manor. Harry's voice calling for him still repeated itself over and over in his head as soon as he tried to get some sleep. It was all a little blurry to him still. He remembered running, of course, and how unfamiliar it had felt to once again stand in front of the entrance to the Slytherin common room. He felt like a stranger there, something he had never experienced before.

And then he had thought about going back, because maybe there was a way they could work this out, Harry and him, but he had soon given up on the thought, as he remembered that the arch would only open for their combined touch and it did not exist anymore.

Snape had seemed quite surprised when Draco had turned up outside his office in the middle of the night, but he had not asked any questions, only offered his fireplace and a handful of floo powder for Draco to make his way back to the manor. Back to his mother and father. _Home_.

And here he was now, sitting on the edge of his bed that felt strangely empty to him without another person in it. He found it fascinating how quickly he had adapted to something so intimate as sharing a bed with someone so quickly, and how hard it was to get used to the change when it was all gone.

They had asked many questions as he had returned but, as Draco claimed that he did not want to talk about it, his father had stated that he had surely suffered from some sort of trauma. His mother had not seemed as convinced, but she had not said a word about it since. For this, Draco was grateful.

With a sigh, he cast his third warming spell on the cup of tea that was placed on his bedside table. It had been there for hours, but it was the same flavour Harry had been drinking every morning the past two and a half months. The mere smell of it caused his to eyes sting.

He took the cup in his hands and rose to stand beside the window. The grounds of Malfoy Manor were covered in a thick layer of sparkling snow. He tried to push the memories of that Christmas Day on the Quidditch pitch away but failed miserably.

The tea burned his lips and tongue, as he took a big gulp in an attempt to wash away the feeling of Harry's lips against his.

He missed the sound of Harry's breathing as soon as he closed his eyes at night. He missed the smell of Harry's shampoo. He missed the way Harry had cuddled into him for the first time. He missed everything. Most of all, he missed the snorts. The irritating, not-nearly-an-acceptable-answer snorts.

Yeah, Draco missed him. All the time.

He let out a shaky sigh, as he reached into his pocket to pull out a small, plastic square. Every night he placed it on his bedside table, and every morning he put it as deep as he could into one of his pockets. Somehow it felt a tiny bit reassuring when his knuckles grazed against the plastic, like a reminder that it had been real. The Z had started to fade, perhaps because of how often he used to rub his thumb over the square, just to make sure that it was still there. Some nights he wished that the memories would fade as quickly too, and others he clung onto them in desperation.

A knock on the door caused him to jump slightly and spill burning tea over his fingers. He put the cup down on the windowsill hastily and rubbed the burning skin on his hand, trying to make the pain go away.

"Yes?" he called, automatically straightening his shirt and his posture.

"You have a visitor, Draco," his mother's voice informed him.

And Draco's heart began racing behind his ribs, almost painfully. It could be Harry. It could be Harry coming for answers. It could be Harry coming to punch him in the face. _It __could __be __Harry..._ Suddenly the room seemed to have run out of oxygen, and Draco felt a tiny bit dizzy.

"Draco?" his mother's voice called again, anticipating an answer. "Pansy Parkinson is waiting."

_Pansy._

For some reason, he felt both relieved and disappointed. He was terrified to meet Harry again. So terrified that he almost got an anxiety attack every time he thought about going back to school. But on the other hand, he still hoped to somehow go back to that night and do things differently. Stay in bed, for one thing.

"Alright, I'll be right there," he answered hastily, as he realised that his mother would soon start wondering if he had died in there.

Pansy was sitting in the library, legs crossed and with a bored look on her face.

"You never visit me during Christmas," Draco pointed out as he entered, and her head snapped up in surprise. She had clearly been somewhere else in thought.

"You have never spent Christmas glued to Potter either, Draco," she retorted, as she got up from her chair. "And you never suddenly got separated from him, weeks before you should have been, and you never suddenly went back home, even though you had decided to stay at Hogwarts."

"Fair point well made," Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. He should never have written her that letter just as he had arrived back at Malfoy Manor, panicked and terrified. He should have known that she would turn up in person when he refused to answer any of her too-many questions. "Let's go to my room."

She grasped his arm and stayed quiet for the short walk back. His cup of tea still stood on the windowsill where he had left it. Probably cold again, already.

"So, mind telling me what's going on?" she demanded, just as the door closed behind them, with hands on her hips.

_Merlin, __she __was __bossy._

"I don't know what you're talking about," Draco mumbled vaguely and seated himself in the armchair next to the window. He did not offer her a seat, knowing she would sit down whenever she wanted to, asked to do so or not.

Pansy tsked and glared at him but remained standing.

"Draco, I'm not blind. There's a reason I've been perfectly polite towards Potter lately, and you know it."

Draco wondered when that lump in his throat had come back. He already knew that she was not as daft as people thought she was, but he had hoped that she would let it all be. Somehow he must have forgotten how nosy she could be.

"It doesn't matter."

"Of _course_ it matters, Draco. Do you know how _sick_ I am of always being your last choice when it comes to your friends? Do you know how tiring it is to know that you'll always choose Blaise over me, even though he's been a complete ass-hat towards you lately? I'm trying to be a good friend, Draco, because I care." She was so mad – perhaps a bit offended – and she was right. Draco had always preferred Blaise's company and friendship over hers, even though she had proven to be a far more loyal friend than Blaise had ever been.

"I don't know what to say," he answered quietly but made eye-contact with her. She was not as mad as she tried to make him believe.

"I know that I might not have come off as the most tolerant of all people," she said and sat down on the edge of his bed, "but I also know that the last month or so, perhaps even more, after you and Potter stopped trying to kill each other – something happened. All of a sudden you were happier again, like you were years ago. And even though I've spent years hating Potter almost as much as you have, I also know that I very much want that Draco back. Because honestly, he was much more fun to be around."

Draco snorted and felt his chest contract unpleasantly, as he instantly remembered that Harry used to snort just like that.

"You don't have to tell me because I already know. You've always been lousy when it comes to hiding your feelings. You're a lousy pure-blood. And I've decided that I don't care, but I have also decided that I will start caring and make your life miserable, if you don't make sure that I get the fun Draco back."

Draco wondered if this was how friends usually showed their support. He had a hard time imagining Granger threatening Harry in a similar manner. On the other hand, this was probably far more amusing and less humiliating than any other heart-to-heart talk.

"Is this a threat?" he asked her instead.

"Very much so. When we get back, I trust you to solve this."

"Merlin, I had forgotten how annoying you are," he muttered, but he felt the corners of his mouth twitch in amusement. Trust a Slytherin to threaten their friends to do something about their misery.

"I'm so glad we had this conversation," she announced with a smile and stood. "Will you come with me to Diagon Alley?"

-"-

A day in Diagon Alley was not exactly what Draco had planned for himself, but it kept his mind off of things, which he was grateful for. Pansy was perfectly able to keep conversation, and he even found himself laughing a few times.

When he came home, tired from the oxygen-filled air and cold from the weather, his mother was sitting on his bed, holding a tiny pair of shoes in her hand.

"Mother?" he said cautiously, almost expecting her to be crying. Instead she looked up with a smile.

"Your baby shoes," she explained as an answer to his unspoken question and held the shoes up for him to see. "Imagine that you were once small enough to wear these."

Draco only nodded. He had never seen her like this, even though she had warmed up considerably since the fall of the Dark Lord. It was not like her to be this nostalgic.

"I know that you are heavy-hearted, Draco," she said softly and patted the spot next to her, indicating for him to sit down. "I know something changed. Mothers know these things." She added the last part as if she had seen Draco's heart stop for a moment in fear.

He walked over to her slowly and sank down on the bed, staring down at his feet. His words were gone, forgotten somewhere at the door, but his mother merely smiled at him as she put the small shoes down on his nightstand. Then she clasped one of his hands in both of hers, as if she was warming his already warm fingers.

"Extreme situations can do strange things to us, Draco. Unexpected things. Things we never thought were possible," she said softly and seemed far away in thought as she gazed out over the grounds through the window. "Isn't it fascinating how the thin line between love and hate sometimes is so easy to cross?"

Draco swallowed and felt his cheeks heat. He was not ready for this.

To his surprise, his mother said nothing more, but kept rubbing her hands over his absentmindedly.

"How did you know?" he whispered. Because there was no use in denying. He could not lie to his mother's face.

Then she looked at him, like she used to look at him when he was younger when he had done something to make her proud. Except this time, Draco was certain that there was no reason for her to be.

"It has always been obvious to me that you and Mr Potter have a very intense relationship with strong feelings. Every Christmas and summer when you arrived home, the person you spoke most about was always him. It was jealousy, it was anger, and sometimes even hatred. In your last letter, you called him by his first name, and then you arrived home so suddenly, so crushed, and I just knew." She reached up and caressed his cheek gently.

Draco blinked, still awaiting the speech about him having to pull himself together and make the right decision. For the sake of his family name and all the other usual reasons.

"Are you not mad at me?" he whispered finally, as she made no sign of continuing.

"I cannot say that I am thrilled with your choice, Draco, but after the war, after all the suffering I have seen you go through, after what we have all gone through – the most important thing for me is that you are happy."

"I don't know," he said quietly. "I think it's too late for that."

"It's never too late unless you have given up, darling."

Draco wondered if she would still say such a thing if she knew how stubborn Harry was. Or if she had heard the breaking of his heart in his voice as he called for Draco that night. With a sigh, he nodded, thinking that at least his mother believed in him.

"Please don't tell Father." Even if Draco's mother had learned that perhaps they had to change their priorities of what was important in life, his father was mostly the same, and his priority had always been honouring the family name. Draco had a feeling that falling for Harry Potter was not his father's idea of how that was the best way of doing so.

"Let me handle your father, Draco," his Mother said and smiled at him. "He's not unreasonable."

Instead of disagreeing with her, saying that his father most likely was completely unreasonable, Draco only nodded. At least she would be the one to hold that discussion.

"Remember what I said," his Mother said and rose from his bed. "It's never too late unless you have given up." And then she left him there, his gaze falling on the abandoned tea cup on his windowsill. With a sigh he cast his fourth warming-spell and inhaled the familiar scent. _Perseverance __was __the __key __to __success, __right?_

-"-

Somehow Draco had forgotten that Harry had friends.

He had arrived to King's Cross and Platform 9 ¾ the very last minute and had barely made it onto the train in time. Thankfully, he found an empty compartment fairly quickly and sank down on the cushioned seat with a sigh. He should have tried to find Pansy or Blaise, he supposed, but searching through every compartment for them did not seem very appealing right now.

The last few days at Malfoy Manor had been unnerving as his father droned on and on about his work, and all Draco could think about was going back to Hogwarts and having to face Harry again. The nervous knot in him stomach seemed to tighten for every second that ticked by and for every field the train passed.

Merlin, how had he not foreseen that it would be so much harder to return after doing what he did?

For the last couple of days, he had tried to convince himself that Harry was not that important, that it did not really matter if their relationship would turn even colder than it had been before the Potions accident. But it had failed completely, because every night he only sensed a great loss. The smell of Harry's shampoo that was not there anymore, or the comforting heat from another body beneath the covers. How he regretted it now, leaving the way he had, letting Harry down completely. Because Harry would never forgive him now.

The door to his compartment banged open before his thoughts could stray any further into that painful place. He turned his head so quickly to the door that it hurt and found Granger standing there, looking as if she was ready to kill.

"Malfoy," she said in a way that sounded more like a threat than a greeting.

"Granger," Draco answered with as much calm as he could manage, but his voice wavered insecurely. He straightened up automatically and avoided eye-contact.

"I thought you didn't take promises lightly." Her voice was cold and, for a second, Draco had no idea what she was talking about. Then he remembered their conversation right before she had left for Christmas. His heart tightened painfully in his chest, and he swallowed loudly. Harry was not in one piece anymore, and it was Draco's fault.

"I don't get you," she continued and her voice wavered, as if she was trying hard to control herself. "I thought something had changed – that _you_ had changed. The way you acted at the Quidditch game and at the party. The way you looked at Harry, for God's sake. I didn't even expect this from you. _Not__ even __from __you._ If I ever see you near Harry again, I won't care of what rules I might break or if I get expelled. Harry is my best friend, and I hate myself for trusting you not to hurt him. I'm such an idiot, but _you_, you are a _disgusting_ person."

Draco stared at her. She was shaking with rage, and it was obvious that she meant every word. It hurt to realise that she had every right to be so angry with him. He was not even going to pretend as though he disagreed with her because seeing how upset she was told him what state Harry must be in.

"Aren't you going to say anything for yourself?" she burst out, and her face was growing redder with every second.

Yes, was he not going to say anything?

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered and stared at her feet. Lump in his throat.

"_I'm__ SORRY?__"_ she yelled, and Draco jerked back in shock of the harsh sound. "You're a bloody coward, that's what you are! Don't ever go near Harry again, or I'll promise you'll be _sorry_."

And then she was leaving, slamming the door loudly behind her. Draco heard someone yelp out of shock from the compartment next to his.

She was right, Draco thought. He was a bloody coward. He had always been.

His head bumped uncomfortably against the window with every move the train made, and the growing lump in his throat made it hard to breathe. His uneven exhales fogged over the cold glass, and outside the sky was blood-red and burning as the sun slowly set behind the horizon. It was beautiful, but seeing it only caused him to remember that he had no one to share it with.

Hogwarts was full of laughter and loud voices, as he walked down the corridors for the Slytherin common room a few hours later. He did not even bother to have dinner in the Great Hall with the rest of them because Harry might be there, and Draco was not anywhere near ready to meet him yet. He had a feeling that he would never be.

"Draco!"

He felt panicked for a short moment, until his brain had recognized the voice as female. He let out a sigh of relief, as he turned and found Pansy hurrying towards him, and stopped to wait for her.

"I thought you decided not to come back," she said slightly breathlessly as she finally caught up with him. "I didn't see you on the train or at the platform."

"I almost missed it," Draco confessed and glanced over his shoulder, almost expecting to see Harry somewhere in the crowd of students. He was both relieved and disappointed when no messy hair or round glasses were in sight. "I got on a few minutes before it left the platform, and then I sat down in the first empty compartment I could find. I didn't want to search the whole train to find you."

"And you were afraid that you might run into Potter's minions?" Pansy said knowingly and grasped his arm, as they headed towards the Slytherin common room again.

"Perhaps," Draco answered coolly and tried to speed up their steps without looking like he was rushing. "Granger found me, however."

"Judging by your tone, she was all sunshine and flowers?" Pansy said sarcastically.

Draco could not help but smile slightly.

"I can't say that she was." And then he told her quickly about his encounter with Granger on the train, effectively leaving out that he had said that he was sorry and how he had fought hard not to cry as she had finally left him alone in the compartment.

"It's your own fault," Pansy pointed out. "If the situation had been reversed, I'm quite sure that I would have done something similar to Potter."

It felt strange to set his foot in the dungeons again. It had been so long since he had been there, spending time with his friends. It felt so crowded compared to the common room he had shared with Harry alone. He was sure that they were all looking at him, too, whispering about him being glued to the Gryffindor Golden Boy as soon as he turned his back to them. He was not sure that he wanted to know what they were saying, knowing that Slytherin had a way of not always choosing the nicest of words.

"Aren't you coming to dinner?" Pansy asked him, as he shrugged the bag off of his shoulder and sank down in the nearest armchair. The students began to make their way to the Great Hall to fill their empty stomachs, but Draco did not feel hungry at all.

"No, I think I'll stay here." He tried to smile at her, but he was not sure how convincing it came across.

To his surprise, she did not sigh and nag him about not accompanying her to dinner, but only nodded as if he had confirmed something she had suspected from the beginning.

"Alright, I'll bring something back to you."

As she left with the rest of the students, Draco wondered if this was how it would always be. Him running away from any situation where he risked running into Harry. And if it was always going to feel empty now, somehow. A small piece missing. Like the Z to Harry's Scrabble game.

As he went to bed that night, curling into a ball on his side, he glanced towards his trunk that still stood untouched at the foot of his bed and realised that he would have to unpack soon. Just not yet.

-"-

It went almost a week until the unavoidable finally happened. Blaise had come around nicely as soon as he realised that Draco and Harry did not spend their days together any more. He did not even ask why Draco refused to look towards the Gryffindor table during meal time. It was obvious that Pansy had been right about being the one that actually cared for something else other than his snarky comments about stupid Hufflepuffs.

Draco was heading towards the Potions dungeons, accompanied by Pansy. His heart was beating painfully behind his ribs, and he felt as if he was about to faint, cold sweat trickling down his back. Harry had not showed for their mutual classes all week but, according to Pansy, he had been in the Great Hall for lunch for the first time today. Draco had refused to look, but he had instinctively known that she was telling the truth.

It was fascinating how all the things to say he had come up with, just for this one moment, hastily disappeared from his mind as he walked into the dungeons, immediately staring straight into a pair of startlingly green eyes. Draco's chest contracted painfully, his throat burning when he noticed how pale Harry was and the dark circles under his eyes, as if, he too, had trouble sleeping. Draco could do nothing but stare back into the Gryffindor's eyes, reading all the effects of his betrayal there. And he wished that Harry would scream at him, hex him, hit him, to make Draco sure that he still felt _something_, anything but look away as if he was not worth any of it.

It was a miracle that Draco's legs did not give in right there, sending him to his knees on the floor, but he managed to walk all the way to his seat next to Pansy and sit down. He even succeeded with placing his books next to him, even though his hands trembled and the lump in his throat ached.

Pansy patted him on the arm, as though it would make him less aware of the Gryffindor on the other side of the room.

Draco sat rigid in his chair for the rest of the class, thoughts spinning in his head. He knew for certain that he had to say something, try to explain that he was a coward and that he regretted his decision to run away.

When Slughorn finally dismissed them, Draco's heart was pounding in his chest, adrenaline pushing through his veins. He did not even care about putting his books in his bag, instead clutching them to his side as he hurried after Harry, who was already halfway out the door.

"Harry, wait!" Draco called as he squeezed himself past a pair of slow Hufflepuffs, but all the adrenaline seemed to melt away as Harry turned his head, only to meet Draco's pounding heart with a blank expression in his eyes, before looking straight forward again and continuing down the corridor as if nothing had happened.

Draco almost dropped his books, as someone bumped into his side. He did not even realise that he had frozen to the spot until Pansy gently freed him from his books and grasped his arm.

"Come on, let's go to Muggle Studies," she said softly, as she guided Draco towards their next class.

He was still in some form of shock through the rest of the day. He had expected Harry to react, to be hurt and angry, perhaps even yell at him in front of everyone. Draco could handle that because he deserved it and Harry had always been useless when it came to handling his emotions. But the way he had barely even looked at Draco, as if he felt nothing for him anymore, was even worse.

Draco did not eat dinner that night. Or the next. Instead he went to bed early, staring blankly into the canopy above him and wondering what he would have been doing in this very moment, if he had not been such a bloody coward and had ran away. The hours passed slowly as he said goodnight to the other Slytherins one by one, as they went to bed. He sighed as his gaze fell on the trunk at the foot of the bed, in the silent darkness. He still had not unpacked it, but it was about time that he did. His muscles protested slightly as he got to his feet, shivering as they made contact with the freezing-cold stone floor. He tried to heave the trunk up on his bed silently, not wanting to wake the other boys that were already asleep, and closed the curtains around him.

"_Lumos_," he mumbled and squinted as the bright light chased away the darkness around him. He could easily spend hours looking through the things in his trunk, he thought, as he placed school robes he had not been wearing for years on the duvet beside him.

Something soft suddenly whispered over his hand as he dug deep, hoping to find something from his first or second year that he did not even remember he had. Curiously, Draco grabbed a hold of it and pulled it out.

A sharp pain shot through his chest, as he stared at the invisibility cloak in his hands. A sob ripped out of him as the liquid-like material fell onto the bed, and Draco slammed his eyes shut to stop the tears. It was not possible. The cloak was Harry's, and Draco could not have misplaced it in his own trunk by mistake, since he had never used it on his own.

He breathed deeply, shakily, and opened his eyes slowly. The cloak was still there. Carefully, Draco held it to his face, inhaling the familiar scent over and over, even though his chest hurt in recognition. He had no idea for how long he sat there, just breathing, remembering every moment of being close to Harry, knowing that he had to give it back.

As he tried to fold the garment again, hoping to hide away memories and feelings inside it, he noticed two pieces of parchment on his bed that he had not noticed before. The first looked old and was folded multiple times, but it was completely empty, he discovered as he unfolded it and turned it over a couple of times, just to make sure. The other was a lot smaller and there were a few lines scribbled on it in Harry's left-hand handwriting.

Draco took a deep breath and swallowed, before deciding that he was going to read it and not throw it away, no matter what was written on it.

_Draco,_

_Since I didn't get you a gift in return for the book, I decided to lend you my cloak for as long as you like. It'll make it easier for you to come visit me in the Gryffindor Tower whenever you like. The parchment is a map, to make sure that you won't run into Filch on the way. Just give it a tap with your wand and say: I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good. It'll give you all the information you need. _

_Harry. _

A suppressed sob burned in his throat, as he turned the small piece of parchment over, noticing a single line there.

_PS. Thanks for making this the best Christmas. DS. _

It would not have been much if it had been written by anyone else, Draco thought, but Harry had never been good at expressing his feelings. Draco suspected that he had added that PS after thinking it over at least a hundred times.

Perhaps he was too late. Perhaps Harry already regretted leaving the cloak in Draco's trunk. But _perhaps_ Draco's mother was right, that it was never too late unless one had given up.

He picked up the larger parchment, the one Harry claimed to be a map, and tapped it with the tip of his wand.

"I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good," Draco whispered, and stared as thin lines darted across the surface from the tip of his wand, creating familiar patterns. It was Hogwarts, Draco realised as he unfolded it further. Small dots moved in corridors and, as he leaned closer, he could see the names of the person the dot portrayed.

He could sit there forever and watch them moving from room to room, some going to bed, he suspected, others heading to the bathroom. But there was no time. This map was not his, and he had to find Harry to give it back to him, and explain. Most of all he just wanted to see the Gryffindor again.

Determination and adrenaline suddenly rushed through his body, as he pushed the curtains aside and got to his feet, covering himself in the cloak. He had no idea how he would get into the Gryffindor Tower when he finally got there, but he could deal with that then.

He held the map tightly in his hand and hurried out of the Slytherin common room. The floor was freezing, and he had forgotten to put on both shoes and socks, but it did not matter. He was afraid that he would change his mind, lose his determination, if he turned back to get them, so instead he hurried down the corridors. The map showed no signs of neither Filch or Mrs. Norris, as Draco kept watching his own dot make its way through the school, clearly visible on the map even though he was covered in Harry's cloak.

Draco nearly forgot to skip one of the fake steps in the last staircase because his heart was beating rapidly behind his ribs. It was even more frightening to be alone in the school at night, than it had been with Harry. Every sound the sleeping portraits made caused him to jump and his heart to forget a beat.

Suddenly, he was there, the Fat Lady yawning in her frame in front of him.

He glanced down at the map, and a small speech bubble had turned up next to his dot. He squinted and leaned closer, unwilling to light his wand in the open. _Quaffle-pocking_ it said. Draco sincerely hoped that this was not a bad joke of some sort, as he walked towards the portrait, still covered by the cloak. He assumed that this was the map's way of telling him the password to the Gryffindor Tower, but he was not sure what would happen if he was wrong.

"Quaffle-pocking," he said loudly, and he noticed with a small tug of satisfaction in his midsection, how the Fat Lady jerked and looked around.

"Who's there?" she said loudly, looking around.

"Quaffle-pocking," Draco said again, even louder, and watched the portray swung open in front of him. The Fat Lady did not seem happy about this, however, he noted, as she started muttering about illusion charms and informing Filch that students were walking around school this time of night. He did not hear the rest because he quickly made his way through the entrance to the Gryffindor common room.

It was completely deserted. A sharp contrast to the loud and crowded party that had been pulsating against the walls the last time he had been there. A pair of shoes stood forgotten beside an armchair, and what looked like first-year essays were scattered over a few tables. Most likely to dry. Draco resisted the temptation to cast a drying charm on them, or misspell a couple of words just because he had the opportunity, and tried to remember the way to Harry's dorm instead.

It was really happening now. He was there. To turn back seemed so easy compared to walking up the stairs and trying to talk to Harry. He was not even sure how the Gryffindor would react to seeing him there. What if he asked Draco to leave without hearing him out? Or if he got really angry and woke the rest of his house? The whole school would know all about it by breakfast tomorrow, and Draco would be laughed at until school was over.

But there was still a small chance that Harry would listen to him, perhaps even forgive him. And that was worth the risk of being the school laughing stock. He folded the map carefully, wondering absentmindedly if it wiped itself clean or if Draco was supposed to do something, as he hurried up the stairs. He felt almost faint as he rested his hand on the doorknob, all worst-case scenarios replaying themselves over and over in his head.

Breathing hard, he leaned against the door and tried to explain to himself that he had put himself in this situation and that he had to try to fix it to the best of his ability. He was terrified, as he pushed the door open and was instantly met by the sound of someone's snoring.

He looked around, but there was no movement in the room. The curtains to Harry's bed were closed, and Draco hesitated for many long breaths before he finally walked across the room and nudged them aside.

Harry was sleeping soundly, his dark hair contrasting against the white pillowcase. Draco's chest contracted again, hard, and he felt like crying. He wanted to brush the hair from Harry's face, follow the curve of his bottom lip with his fingertip but, instead, he shrugged the cloak off of his shoulders and held it tightly in his shaking hand.

"Harry," he whispered and prayed that no one else would wake up. The Gryffindor stirred slightly, and Draco could see movements beneath his eyelids. He reached out, hesitating for a short moment, before gently brushing his fingers over the skin at Harry's shoulder.

The Gryffindor's eyes flew open, as if in alarm, and he stared at Draco for what felt like forever, and Draco stared back. He could see the light of recognition in Harry's eyes, followed by hurt, and then they started to shut him out, growing colder.

"Harry," Draco whispered hastily. "Please, let me explain."

"Go away," Harry said harshly and scooted away from him, disconnecting himself from Draco's hand.

"Just let me explain," Draco said again, sounding more like he was pleading than anything else.

"I don't want to listen. I don't care what you have to say." Harry held onto the duvet so hard that his knuckles whitened, as if he was afraid that Draco would rip it away from him.

"Please," Draco whispered and felt his heart sink in his chest as the Gryffindor shook his head stubbornly.

"Just leave, Malfoy," Harry said loudly, and Draco jerked.

_So__ they__ were__ back__ to __Malfoy __all __over __again._

"What's going on, Harry?" Weasel's sleepy voice came from the bed behind Draco.

He looked over his shoulder in panic, hearing the rustling of sheets before the curtains opened and Weasel's ginger head popped out. Blinking at Draco as if he was an illusion of some sort.

"_Malfoy_?" Weasel said and looked more confused than during Transfiguration. Then his gaze wandered from Draco, who still held the curtains to Harry's bed open, to Harry who was clutching his duvet tightly against his body. Weasel's tired eyes finally noticed the cloak and map in Draco's hands, and something seemed to click behind his eyes. "Oh," he said and did not look half as mad as Draco had expected him to be. "So did you tell him you love him yet?"

Draco flinched, and he could hear Harry's sharp intake of breath behind him. Then, it seemed like Weasel actually woke up completely, realising what he had just said, his eyes growing wide and his ears turning pink.

"Any chance Neville's snoring drowned any of that? No? I'll just..." He trailed off and pointed awkwardly towards the pillows behind him, before letting the curtains close again, like a shield.

Draco's heart was pounding again, his lips trembling slightly as he turned to look at Harry, who stared back at him wide-eyed.

"By the way, Malfoy," Weasel's voice came suddenly, sounding like he was already half-asleep, and Draco glanced towards the still closed curtains of the other boy's bed again. "I have my wand right here, and I'm not afraid to use it."

Draco could not help but smirk as he noticed a wand laying on the bedside table next to Weasel's bed, but he did not comment on it. Instead, he turned back to Harry, who still looked terrified.

"I'm sorry I ran away," Draco whispered and stepped closer, half-expecting Harry to scoot away from him further to keep the distance, but instead he loosened his grip of the duvet. "I really am. I don't know what I was thinking. I thought about going back, but...I was too afraid that you would already be gone."

Harry looked away, a long, shaky inhale of air was the only sound that escaped him. Draco took this as permission to continue.

"I know that I'm a coward. I know I hurt you when I ran away. I'm so sorry." The lump in his throat made it hard to speak, and his voice wavered embarrassingly with every word. "I'm so sorry," he repeated, noticing how Harry swallowed but was still looking away.

"Harry, I-" he began, but someone cut him off:

"_Silencing __charm!_ I'm trying to sleep here."

He had no idea who had said it and did not know if that person knew who he was, but he did not really feel like putting up with a cranky Gryffindor.

"I guess I'll go," Draco said quietly and glanced down at the cloak and map. How he was going to make it all the way back to the Slytherin dungeons fully visible, he had no idea, but he had to give them back.

Harry seemed to hesitate, his mouth opening, but no words came out. As their eyes met, he could almost see how the Gryffindor's walls crumbled and fell.

"Just get in here," Harry muttered with a sigh and scooted away further, making room.

Draco hesitated for one short moment, but mentally slapped himself for his own stupidity and hurried onto the bed, afraid that Harry might change his mind. As the curtains closed around them, the tension grew thick in the air around them almost instantly. Harry was so close that all Draco had to do was reach out just a little to touch him. But he did not. Instead, he cast a silencing charm on the bed, shutting out Longbottom's snoring until all that was left were the sounds of two hearts beating rapidly, completely off beat to one another.

"I'm so sorry," Draco whispered and shivered as Harry looked at him in silence for a long while.

"I know," the Gryffindor said finally. "You should be."

"I know," Draco nodded and wondered if he dared to hope. He reached out slowly, to give Harry time to move away if he wanted to, and took the other boy's hand in his. A warm rush of satisfaction rushed through him, as Harry sighed and closed his eyes as his fingers closed around Draco's hand.

Instinctively, Draco leaned forward and brushed their lips together, praying that Harry would not push him away. For a long moment, the lips beneath his were completely immobile, and then with a small sigh, Harry seemed to give in and responded to the kiss.

Relief rushed through him, as he pushed himself against the Gryffindor, craving the familiar sensation of his body against his own.

"I thought you knew," Harry whispered breathlessly against his lips and moved back slightly, his eyes boring into Draco's. "I-I told you right after we...you know, but you didn't answer. I assumed that you had fallen asleep, but then you ran away from me."

Draco was not sure that he knew what Harry was referring to, but then a small grin spread over his lips as he remembered Weasel's words just moments ago and a vague memory of Harry mumbling something to him just before he had fallen asleep the last night in their dorm.

"You love me," he mumbled triumphantly, letting Weasel's words sink in, and he felt like crying and laughing at the same time, when he got a snort in reply.

"You love me too," Harry said finally, one corner of his mouth quirking upwards.

And as they fell onto the bed, tangled in each other, kissing like there were not four other people in the same room, it did not matter that their hearts were completely off beat, that Draco was a complete coward or that Harry never seemed to realise that his snorts were not nearly an acceptable answer, because it all made sense somehow.

_And I never was smart with love  
I let the bad ones in and the good ones go  
But I'm gonna love you like I've never been hurt before  
I'm gonna love you like I'm indestructible  
Your love is ultra-magnetic  
And it's taking over  
This is hardcore  
Ooh and I'm gonna love you like  
Like I've never been hurt before  
I'm gonna love you like I'm indestructible_

_Indestructible – Robyn_

_**THE END**_

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**Story**** end**** notes:** Wow. So now it's all over. I hope that I did not disappoint you and I hope you have enjoyed this adventure as much as I have. Again, I want to thank you for every single review, for every single fav and story alert. It means the world to me. Thank you for staying with me. Reviews are, _of course_, loved.


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